


Chasing Valhalla

by juliettdelta



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, M/M, Post-Movie, also other minor relationships but i dont wanna clutter their tags, slit is an asshole but we still love him, slit swears a lot, theres injuries and violence but not in too great detail, vast majority is slit's pov but sometimes nux and capable too, war boys didn't die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-05 06:55:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 28,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4170255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliettdelta/pseuds/juliettdelta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slit wakes up in the wreckage, broken and burnt and banned from the glory of Valhalla. At least he's not alone.</p><p>Nux/Slit and Nux/Capable slowly merging into a happy triangle</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not Valhalla

The only thing he knew was fire and pain. Every nerve in his body was burning, screaming, clawing. His nostrils were filled with the stench of burning flesh. This was not Valhalla, it couldn't be. Valhalla was chrome and eternal highways, and maybe pain but not like this, not this slow searing death. Slit could feel the life leaking from him in the dark. He was alive, but clearly not for very long. 

Forcing his eyes open with difficulty he tried to get an idea of just how broken he was. The entire right side of his body was blackened and burned, and trying to move his right arm did nothing but hurt. The staples holding his gut together were gone, but the old wound had not reopened too much. He took a deep breath. Sand seemed to be filling his lungs, but he was used to that out in the desert. Sharp bits of shrapnel stuck out of his legs and torso. If he squinted they could be body modifications. In the unlikely event of surviving he would look terrifying and chrome. The corner of his mouth twitched.

Slit did not remember blacking out, but when he opened his eyes again it was almost light. His world was fire pain still, yet Valhalla remained out of his reach. He tried, very carefully, to move. Fire and lightning shot through his limbs, but he managed. With a stifled scream he managed to prop himself up on his good elbow. He was in the canyon, that was clear. Wrecked cars were strewn everywhere, and they didn't even look like they had been scavenged. Odd. Surely The Immortan would have sent someone to collect precious parts for the remaining cars? Maybe there had not been time yet. Slit had no idea how long he had been laying beneath the half crushed car.

It took a lot of time and twice as much pain, but eventually he managed to get to his feet, supporting himself on a long metal shard. It cut into his hand, but the sting of it was just a welcome distraction. He coughed up sand, realising quickly that his ribs were not right. No matter. He wouldn't die there in the sand lying down. He might kill himself doing it, but he needed to try to get to the Citadel. Warboys don't give up.

He limped through the wreckage, slowly and with many breaks. So many cars gone. He saw what looked like pieces of the Doof's guitar. Pity. The war parties would be lesser without their soundtrack. Dead bodies littered the ground, burnt and bloodied. Skull painted faces stared at him with dead eyes. Slit was used to death, any Warboy would be, but now they seemed eerie. Like they blamed him for surviving. Death grins laughing at him for failing to get to Valhalla. He scowled at them. 

He was surprised to find the War Rig among the wreckage. Somehow it had not occurred to him that it would fall to the war parties' attacks. He limped closer to it, almost tripping over Rictus's giant carcass in the process. Good, he thought. He had never liked the Immortan's least useless son.  
The overturned rig was burnt and dented, but seemed surprisingly whole. Slit spotted the water hose laying in a muddy patch of sand, and hurried as much as his injuries allowed. It was mostly dried up, but he managed to pour a few droplets of precious aqua cola down his dry throat. What a waste. As he recalled, the rig was supposed to be filled with all kinds of things, food and mothers' milk too. He wondered if any remained. It was doubtful that he would managed to get to it in his condition either way, but not trying was hardly an option. He sank down in the sand, wincing. In a minute. 

The sun was scorching hot when he regained consciousness. He had positioned himself in the shade, but that was evidently a while ago. He sneered at the harsh orb of fire. Grimacing, he managed to get up. The pain seemed worse. His burns were getting sunburns, and parts of his pants seemed to have melted into the skin of his left leg, pulling and tearing when he moved. The knives and tools in his pockets were on fire after so long in the sun, burning his good leg too. He ignored it as much as he could, hobbling over to the cab to see if he could find something less sharp to use for a crutch. 

The cab was half filled with sand, lying on its back like that. The wheel was gone. He half heartedly dug through the sand, not expecting to find much, when his hand uncovered something fleshy and white. He grabbed at the thing, trying to see what it was. It was clunky and smelly and shit, it was a foot. Buried there in the shade the corpse ought to have been cold. It was not. Slit frowned, pulling weakly at it. That was not working. He used his sharp metal crutch to poke at the foot, and it bled like a living thing. A sound came from under the sand, some pained whimper. Shit. Slit started trying to shovel the sand away with his least bad arm.

It took maybe half an hour, but at last he uncovered a dying Warboy. The skinny frame was dented and bloodied and shrapnel stuck out of him, but Slit would always recognize him.

“Traitoring filth,” he said harshly, trying to ignore the relief coursing through him at the sight of his driver. Clearly he wasn't the only one Valhalla didn't want.


	2. ???

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys wake up in the desert. It's not particularly pleasant.

The stupid fucking blue eyed piece of shit lay unconscious before him. He was banged up pretty bad. There was a lot more blood coming out of his head than Slit's limited medical knowledge told him there ideally should be. Fucking idiot. The driver had always been reckless which, fair enough, they were dying half life War Boys, but, and it physically pained Slit to admit this even to himself: he didn't want the driver to die. They had always known they would ride to Valhalla together, lancer and driver on the eternal highways. Alone it seemed almost pointless.

Slit found out, after some gentle prodding, that Nux had at least a broken leg, and probably a broken everything else too. Slit had spent enough time at the Organic to know what most violent injuries looked like, but not what to do with them. He checked that Nux was breathing okay, at least as okay as Larry and Barry allowed. He smeared some grease from the rig over the lumps, clumsily repainting the little faces.

“You don't get to go to Valhalla without me,” he mumbled to himself. 

He sank down in the sand next to Nux, wincing at the pain. With his least useless arm he manoeuvred the driver so his head rested on Slit's lap. They had known each other since they were Warpups together, they had been through so much shit. At least they were dying together. Slit absent mindedly traced Nux's V8 scars with his eyes. It was a beautiful design. The holy sign engraved forever. Fitting for a mechanic. Slit wondered if Nux would regret it now, having turned on everything he believed in. Probably not, he figured. Was still fitting for a mechanic.

They were mostly inside the cab, mostly in the shade, but it was still hotter than Hel. Slit did not know what he was waiting for. He should get up, try however feebly to make it back to the Citadel. But he could hardly walk, let alone carry his driver. And leaving Nux was not an option, would never be an option.

He had almost dozed off when Nux twitched. The driver moaned in pain, and Slit gritted his teeth. He scowled down to see those big, impossibly blue eyes blink open. Nux wheezed wordlessly.

“Hey, hey, relax,” Slit growled. 

Nux frowned, then seemed to regret it as fresh blood welled up from a cut on his forehead.

“Is-” he coughed weakly, “Valhalla?”

“Nah. Ya ain't getting in there after traitorin' the Immortan, ya piece of filth,” Slit told him soothingly.

Nux nodded. 

“Ya look like shit,” Slit told him. “Face is even worse than usual.”

“You- love it.” Nux replied, trying to smile. It looked more like a nervous twitch. 

“Still... in.. canyon?”

“Yeah. No one's comin' for us, but they might for the salvage. Lotta car wrecks here. Lotta dead War Boys too. You sent everyone to Valhalla.”

Nux closed his eyes. Slit didn't know if it was regret or something else. Going to Valhalla was the greatest of Glory, but sending everyone else there and lingering weak in the desert, that was weak. Didn't matter what the intention might have been.

“How'd you… know?”

“Think I ain't seen a wreck before? That imperator and them fucked you up badly. Even the Doof died. Saw him makin' my way here.”

“Oh.”

Nux very carefully turned his head to the side, looking away. Slit let him be. He didn't envy the kid. Well, that was a lie. He very greatly envied him not being half covered in horrible burns. But not the other thing. He lay a hand carefully on Nux's shoulder, trying to communicate what he didn't know how to say. That whatever Nux did, however he fucked up, Slit could never really hate him. He could try. Like the time Nux had pissed off some older War Boy and the asshole had retaliated by carving up Slit's face. He hadn't spoken to Nux for months, and it was only partly because he was physically unable to. But Nux had always been there, had always teased Slit and looked up to him and gotten him in trouble. Slit couldn't really imagine life without the little shit.

“Slit,” Nux began, voice unsure. “What happens when I don't get into Valhalla? Will you go there without me? Who'll-” he coughed, “who'll drive the car?”  
“I will, idiot.”

“But you're a shit driver,” Nux replied, wide blue eyes staring up at Slit all innocent.

“Shut it, I'm fine.”

“Remember when you accidentally drove into that cliff?”

“Shut it.”

Nux gathered enough strength drag himself up to lean against the wall of the cab next to Slit. He very carefully leaned his head on the shorter man's shoulder. Nux's fingers traced over Slit's old scars lightly, and Slit did his very best not to wince in pain. He might trust his driver with his life and everything in it, but that didn't mean he was going to admit that everything hurt.

“Why are ya all burnt up?”

“Blew up my car. Thought it was Valhalla for certain.”

“Looks like you melted.”

Slit grunted in response.

“Did ya dick melt too?”

“If I could move I would punch ya so hard ya little shit.”

“Wouldn't. Love my pretty face too much.”

“Would.”

They sat in silence for a while, the sun rapidly sinking into the distance. It was getting cold now, and Slit wondered whether they would survive the night. They were dehydrated and badly hurt and always almost dying and no one would come for them. He pulled Nux closer, trying to share whatever body heat they had left, and taking comfort in the fact that wherever they went when they died they'd go there together.

As the night fell in the desert the two War Boys huddled together as best their broken bodies managed. They fell asleep after a while, a heavy sleep that didn't alert them to the sound of roaring engines headed their way. It was probably for the best. Slit would not have appreciated how the red head cradled Nux's head and kissed it, nor the feeling of being carried around by the feral blood bag. And not being conscious for the bumpy ride to the Citadel was probably good.


	3. Return to Home Base

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Return to Citadel

Slit drifted in and out of consciousness for a while, catching glimpses of people and blood and strips of white. Mostly, though, his brain was a soft fog of drug induced sleep. It was… not horrible, and in his more lucid moments he wondered if he had finally expired and this was what awaited those not welcome in Valhalla. In that case he didn't really mind.

Eventually the drugs stopped flooding his system, and pain returned. He was used to pain. He could deal with it. But pain meant he was probably alive. He took a deep breath and felt the stinging in his chest. Ribs still bad, then. He lay with his eyes closed, feeling out how ruined he was. His right side, the burnt side, hurt less. That was good. Admittedly there wasn't that much sensation, but that was fine. He could deal with that later. He could not feel any sharp bits of metal embedded in his skin any more. Someone was fixing him up. The Organic? Hadn't he been on one of the cars in the chase? Maybe he had survived. Maybe more had than he had thought. The only one he had cared about finding was his driver, after all. His driver. Nux!

He sat up abruptly, and instantly regretted it. His head was spinning and the sharp light hurt his eyes. His skin creaked and complained, and everything ached. He rubbed his eyes with his good hand, trying to get used to the brightness. When the light settled into shapes he saw he was at the Organic's place. There were, strangely, no blood bags hanging from the ceiling. The cages were gone. That was. Weird. He was on one of the metal tables, bandages covering most of his body. He was alone in the room.

“Nux,” he tried to shout, but it came out as a hoarse whisper. His throat was dry and felt as sandy as the desert. He coughed, and his ribs ached again. Slowly he got off the table and onto his currently very unsteady feet. The room spun around, but not too badly. He was not hooked up to anything. That had to be good. He had to- He had to find Nux. Had to find his useless driver before he hurt himself or something. He got out into the hallway, slow and unsteady. The place was eerily empty. Usually there were War Boys and pups running around, even here, but now there was nothing. Sure, a lot had been lost in the chase, but the Immortan wouldn't take them off duty, wouldn't- Maybe there was another chase, maybe they were gone on raids to restock. Someone must have gone out, seeing as he and hopefully his idiot driver were back at the Citadel.

After only a few minutes walking was getting very very difficult. He leaned against the cool stone wall. The bandages were to blame, probably. Restricting his movement and all. He tugged helplessly at them. It hurt, it stung, it burned, but they were keeping him here, making him all soft and useless, they-

 

“Slit! Hey Slit, Slit come on!”

“Uuughh,” Slit said. He blinked his eyes against the light. It was all bright again, shiny like at the Organic's place. He grimaced. Someone had put him back. Maybe the same someone who was shouting words he could not process at his face. He growled at the voice.

“Knew ya were in there,” a painfully enthusiastic voice shouted lkoudly enough that Slit could physically feel the vibrations through his skull. Or maybe that was just the pounding headache. He concentrated on opening his eyes, letting the world slip into focus. Above him was a skull with the biggest bluest eyes he had seen.

“Nux!” he called, too loudly for his head, reaching a hand up to draw the driver into a gentle headbutt that sent his head spinning again.

“Hey, hey careful with yer head, mate, don't wanna wreck it again. Ye'll be even less use than usual,” Nux said. The insult in his words was dampened slightly by the fact that he was gently cradling Slit's head and staring at him with wet eyes. Little driver was going soft. Softer, Slit corrected himself.

“What,” Slit asked, then coughed. 

A bottle of aqua cola made its way into Nux's hand and the precious liquid tumbled over his face and into his mouth. It was two days' worth of it at least, probably three. Odd. The Immortan wouldn't waste that much on a single broken War Boy. Maybe Nux had given up his. Seemed like something he might be stupid enough to do. Slit blinked slowly. Nux looked. He looked alive. He looked a lot better than Slit felt. He saw there was a crutch leaning against the metal table. Someone had fixed Nux's leg up, then. Good. 

“It's over!,” Nux told him. “The rule of the Immortan! Joe, they killed Immortan Joe!”   
Nux seemed very enthusiastic about this. Confusing. The young driver had been pretty devout. But the Immortan dead, that meant.

“Who's… 'n power?” Slit managed to croak.

“Furiosa! And the wives- well. The sisters. The Young Vuvalini. They haven't decided what their names are yet, but it's better, everything is so much better! There's so much aqua cola, Slit, you wouldn't believe! And they are gonna fix us! Gonna try givin' us full lives! Imagine that!”

Slit could not imagine that. Slit could not imagine the Citadel without the Immortan. How would that work? Breeders in charge? What did they know of the holy V8? They were soft and weak. Shiny but weak. How could they rule? They had clearly convinced Nux, but to be honest that would probably not have been that hard. The kid needed something to be devoted to, maybe it didn't matter what or who.

“They gonna kill me?” Slit asked. It seemed like something they would do. Execute him after nursing him back to health. They probably hated the War Boys. Least the proper ones, the ones who stuck together, to the old. Nux, oddly enough, seemed confused.

“No? No they ain't gonna kill ya Slit. They're makin' everything better! They weren't real happy bout spending so many resources savin' ya from near death, 's true, but I made them. I mean. You're Slit. You're my lancer. Can't do nothin' without ya,” Nux said, scarred lips twitching into a weak smile. 

“Ya dumb fuck.”

“Not any more'n you,” Nux replied, bending down to gently touch his forehead to Slit's. The lancer lifted a hand, kept Nux there, taking comfort in the familiarity through all the pain.

“Think they can get me some more of them drugs?” he asked weakly. Nux looked worried. 

“They- uh, they said there's a limited amount, and they can't use too much on any one, and that you just gotta wait it out now,” he told him, looking away.

“Right. Take- help me to get to the bunk, then. Can't walk too good,” Slit told him, struggling to sit up. Nux looked like he was about to argue, but thought better of it. He helped Slit down, and together they staggered back to the bunk they had shared for as long as either of them could remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, I'm not like super good with long chapters. So they are gonna be short, but hopefully pretty frequent. Probably not two a day like yesterday though. It'll depend. Also I'm not sure where I'm going with this because I am not capable of planning my writing so I guess if anyone has anything they really want to see then toss ideas at me and stuff.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This whole chapter takes place in a bed. But sadly not in the way you're thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so. Slit is fairly sexist in this chapter. But you kind of expect the War Boys to be before any of the others can make them understand? So he is. But he'll get better. So consider this a warning, I guess. Also again Slit swears a lot because it helps me write his voice.

When Slit awoke he was all tangled up with Nux, limbs around each other. It was quite uncomfortable with all his injuries, but he didn't feel like ever moving. Nux was still heavily asleep, and Slit let himself look at him with softer eyes, for once. The bunks around them were all empty. So many War Boys had fallen, were not coming back. Slit didn't know how to feel about that. War Boys usually didn't get too close to each other. They were all dying, more or less. You never knew whether someone would return from a raid or have gone glorious to Valhalla.

Nux had told him what happened, or some, anyway. The Immortan dead. Would that mean no Valhalla for anyone? Was there even a Valhalla? Or a Hel for those who died soft? And what was the Citadel like now, what would the War Boys do if the new Immortan Furiosa didn't want them doing war? Slit knew nothing else. It was easier for Nux, driving and mechanic stuff was good for other stuff too, but if Slit couldn't make weapons he couldn't do shit. Maybe Nux could talk to the new bosses, make them see peace was no way to handle everything. He seemed tight with them. Probably too much.

Nux stirred, made sleepy noises, and buried his face in Slit's neck. Like a fucking puppy. Slit looked to see no one was around and pressed his lips to the tall idiot's head. It was hardly unheard of for bunk partners to be intimate, but everyone knew if there were feelings involved you kept it quiet. They were bad ass kamakrazee War Boys. The drove fire spitting cars and did war, they did not feel. And they certainly did not feel panicked at the thought of losing their partner for any reason other than that the next one might be shit at their job.

A while later Slit heard approaching footsteps. They sounded slow, unsure. Couldn't be a War Boy. Odd. Who else would be looking at the bunks? One of the wives, as it turned out. The red haired one. She was wearing more clothes now, not the white gauze the Immortan liked them in. Had she not been so shiny and clean he might have mistaken her for a wretched. She looked at the bunks on the other side, then at Nux, then at Slit. He stared back. She seemed confused, almost hurt. He wondered why. Back when the Immortan was alive he would have got to his feet, escorted her back or helped her, but now he felt no such obligation.

“What's he doing here?” she asked, nodding towards Nux, who was still fast asleep.

“'S our bunk,” Slit replied evenly. He meant to look intimidating, but covered in bandages and with Nux cuddled up to him he suspected it it came out more as defensive.

“He needs a proper bed to heal, not half a stone slab with a blanket,” she told him, crossing her arms.

“He's fine. Why do ya care about some half life War Boy?”

“I- He's-” she fumbled.

“Mmrr,” Nux added to the conversation. The noise seemed to have woken him. He stretched, wrapping an arm around Slit's chest.

“'S going on, Slit?” he asked, blinking. Slit nodded in the direction of Capable. Nux craned his neck to look, and his expression brightened.

“Capable! Hey! This is Slit, I told you about him, right? My lancer! He's great! A bit angry, but great! And Slit, this is Capable, she's-”

“One of the wives, I know,” Slit interrupted. “What's she doing here?”

“I was looking for Nux,” Capable said. She seemed to be trying to very pointedly say something else, but Slit wasn't sure what. Probably nothing important. 

“Oh, did ya need to talk more about the War Boys?” Nux asked, trying to extract himself. Slit did nothing to make it easier, and scowled at Capable from behind Nux. She glared back. Nux didn't notice. He slid carefully off the bunk, trying not to put any weight on his bad leg, and picked up his crutch. He leaned down, gently knocking his forehead to Slit's, and then walked off with the wife, chattering excitedly about something or other, not seeming to notice her slight discomfort.

Slit sunk back down to the hard bunk. He saw the way the wife had looked at Nux, and how easy he had let her support him when he hobbled on his crutch. Fuck. Was that how they had got the little shit to traitor all he believed in? Show him something shiny and soft and he turned? Slit knew Nux softened at the slightest show of affection, but still. He felt. He felt what? Hurt? What was he, soft? Nux would come to his senses soon. Would see that all the soft and shiny wasn't for him. Would come back to Slit. Definitely. How could anyone resist him? He looked at himself, covered in bandages, wearing some dead War Boy's pants because his own had had to be cut from his melted skin. He couldn't even walk more than a couple yards without blacking out. Who was he kidding. He was a fucking mess.

He'd grown up with Nux, more or less. They had known each other since they were new war pups, recruited from somewhere neither of them cared to remember. They had been working together almost as long. Nux had always been the clever one, much as Slit hated admitting it. Fixing the cars, fixing everything. Slit was mostly just scary and violent, which to be fair were quite important War Boy skills as well. He wasn't used to Nux being busy with things that were not either him or cars. He didn't like this development. He'd have to do something about that.


	5. the fifth chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally there's some dialogue and not just Slit angsting. I never knew he angsted so much before.

Some time later, Slit couldn't tell how long, some war pup he didn't recognize came up to him. The kid at least had the decency to be scared. He held a bowl of some liquid, and said Nux had said to bring it to him. Slit struggled to sit up. The pup moved to help, but he snarled at him. He didn't need any fucking help to sit up. He didn't need anything. Everything burnt and stabbed and stung, but he managed. He roughly grabbed the bowl, shooing the pup away. He swallowed it all so fast he nearly choked. He felt like he hadn't eaten in weeks. Probably it was only days. 

“Where is everyone?” he asked the pup, clumsily tossing the empty bowl at him.

“Wh- who?”

“All the War Boys. My piece of shit driver can't've sent 'em all to Valhalla.”

“Uh, workin'? I guess? They, I mean, it's the middle of the day…”

“I haven't seen any of them yet. Been here a while.”

The pup shrugged, and jogged off, eager to avoid more questions. Feeling slightly better after the food, Slit decided he would get up, go have a look at the cars. He and Nux would need a new one after the old one got smashed up. Probably killed Nux, that. He'd been so proud of that thing. And it had been a masterpiece. Slit wasn't as good with or interested in cars as Nux- he doubted anyone was- but even he could tell it was the most impressive ride there. 

He psyched himself up for several minutes, gritted his teeth, and swung his legs over the edge of the bunk. He sat there for several moments, waiting for the pain to pass. It didn't, but it dulled a bit. He wished Nux had left him a crutch. At the same time he was grateful he hadn't. Wouldn't want him underestimating Slit. He pushed himself up, got to his feet. Not very steady, but it would do for now. He kept to the wall, supporting himself as he hobbled. It was neither fast nor pleasant, but it worked. He concentrated hard on forgetting how far the repair bay was.

He had walked for at least fifty years or possibly twenty minutes when he heard talking. Not War Boy talk, not fast and aggressive, but soft voices. Slit hobbled a bit closer. One of the voices was definitely familiar. He had probably had to listen to it rambling for hours every day for the last fifteen years at least. The other- was it the wife from before? Or one of the others? He couldn't tell them apart. Edging closer to the doorway, but keeping out of sight he tried to hear what they were saying.

“He seems dangerous, Nux-”

“He is. We are.”

“But more. More than you. He seems volatile. Like he could snap any minute.”

“He could, but what's wrong with that?”

A sigh.

“You don't understand. It's. We've been through so much here, don't you see why he would make us nervous?”

A pause. Shuffling of feet.

“I guess. Do I make you nervous too?”

“I- no. But some of us, maybe. Cheedo isn't- isn't used to you. Toast doesn't trust easy.”

“Oh. I'll. I'll go back, I won't bother ya more.”

Muted cursing. 

“That's not what I meant. I want you to stay with- I want you to stay. Please.”

“But?”

“I want you to stay, but leave him down there. He'll be fine, said it himself.”

“He's not. He doesn't like admitting he needs shit, ya know? But he's in pain and he's broken and he needs-”

Slit didn't care to listen to the rest. Nux badmouthing him to some filthy breeder. He turned around, he would find another way. He could do without that traitor's pity.

Somehow, Slit had gotten lost. It was the drugs left in his brain, he thought. Definitely that. No one could get lost moving as slow as he did. He'd met a few War Boys around, but none whose name he remembered. Maybe everyone he knew had died. Everyone except Nux, who'd traitored everything. And now there were just the weak and the war pups and him left. Everything was turning to shit and he didn't even have Valhalla to look forward to. No driver to go there with. 

He leaned against the cool stone wall, letting himself sink slowly to the floor. He was exhausted and thirsty. The Immortan had been right, too much water wasn't good for you, just addicting. He had had some last night and he was already dying for more. Weak. He was going soft from all this peace bullshit. He wasn't even painted, for fuck's sake. He go to the clay room soon. Would get to his feet soon. Just had to rest for a minute, had to wait till the fire in his limbs burnt out. Had to.

Slit blinked. His eyes stuck together sleepily. Had he passed out? Fallen asleep on the floor? Fuck. He tried to move, but there was a weight on his shoulder. He looked. Nux's head rested there. He was sitting next to Slit, apparently asleep. He must have found him there, decided to keep him company. At least, Slit thought, however soft he thought he was going, it wasn't as bad as Nux. The taller man's back was bent awkwardly to let his head rest on Slit's shoulder, but he seemed comfortable enough. His hands lay spread on the floor, the one facing Slit curled into a loose thread in Slit's pants, probably to stop him getting away. 

Nux looked better, Slit had to admit that. He still sick, clearly. His leg was still wrapped up, and the crutch lay in his lap, but he seemed happier than he used to, even in his sleep. Genuine happiness, not just his usual manic excitement, and much as it shouldn't, it bothered Slit. True, he had never particularly tried to make Nux happy, but he felt his force of personality should have done that for him. It was that wife. Her “I want you to stay” bullshit. She wanted him in her bed, clearly. Which was unfair, because N  
ux belonged in his and Slit's shared bunk, uncomfortable and cramped as it was.

Nux coughed in his sleep. Larry and Barry still protruded from his neck, and by the sound of it they still chewed some on his windpipe. Couldn't expected things like that to cure themselves. It was hard to be angry with Nux like this, so Slit redirected his silent wrath to the wife. The red headed one, he was sure it had to be her. He didn't know her name, but he definitely did not like her or her unnatural hold on Nux. Not healthy. Nux shifted, seemed to wake up.

"Hey," he said sleepily.

"When didya styart following me around?"

"When you last I saw ya couldn't walk two minutes on your own."

They sat in silence for a while, Nux still leaning on Slit's good shoulder, fiddling with the straps on his pants. 

"I don't trust her. She's too shiny, too different," Slit told Nux, staring at the wall.

"I do."

"So I've seen. Ya don't think she's usin' ya to get close to the War Boys that are left, to control them? Using ya for your dick?"

"No. But I wouldn't mind."

"She is pretty shiny, I get that. Thought you liked me using you for that."

"Still do."

"Greedy fucker."

"You love me, Slit."

Slit knocked the side of his head against the still open wound on Nux's forehead in both denial and confirmation. Nux yelped, but seemed to understand.

"You too."


	6. New World Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one has a lot more characters, but no one accomplishes much. Except possibly Capable. Also Slit gets punched in the face.

“What the fuck am I doing here?” was the first thing Slit snarled after Nux tricked him into what was apparently a meeting of the Citadel's new leadership. Imperator Furiosa was there, and the wives, and even the blood bag. What was the world coming to. 

“We need someone to speak for the War Boys,” Furiosa said evenly. “To represent them here and to represent us to them.”

Slit gestured to Nux, incredulous look still on his face. Furiosa shook her head.

“We need you both.”

Slit sighed heavily, slumping his chair and suppressing a wince of pain. He sat next to Nux around the oval table. One of the other wives sat on his other side. She looked pale and otherworldly and Slit had no idea what her name was. The red headed one sat next to Nux, of course. The dark haired one who looked like a pup still was looking at him, clearly scared. The one with short cropped hair laid a protective arm around her shoulders and glared at him. He glowered back defensively. Nux nudged him under the table, giving him a look that probably meant something like “shut up and behave”. 

“We need someone to keep the War Boys organized, keep them busy but make sure they understand what it's gonna be like now,” the red head said. “We need someone to talk to those who can be convinced, that's Nux, and we need him to make you understand, so you can I don't know, fight those who disagree, whatever works for the more stubborn ones.”

Slit felt like there might be an insult in there somewhere, but couldn't figure what that would be. The short haired one smiled, and he suspected that meant it referred to him somehow. He kept his face as neutral as the grotesque scars allowed. 

“And what is it gonna be like now, then?” Slit asked, crossing his arms.

“No more raids, for one thing,” Furiosa said. “We'll trade. We'll have to work hard to keep the peace with Gastown and the Bullet Farm without Joe, after everything that went down, but we'll manage. We'll distribute water to those who need it in the Citadel, not hoard it like Joe did. Make things better for the wretched. Try to cure the War Boys, give them- you- full lives.”

“How ya gonna do that without the Organic?”

“We'll learn. Figure things out. There are books. Someone has to be doing this amongst the Wretched, know things.”

“That's how ya want us to convince the War Boys? You'll figure it out?”

“Convincing them is your job,” the short haired one retorted. She looked smug and he didn't like it. Grudgingly respected it, maybe, but didn't like it. Nux kicked him under the table again.

“We can do it, Slit,” he whispered.

“How? And why?” 

“I'll explain after. Trust me.”

“You traitored everything we believed in. Why would I trust you?” Slit whispered loudly. The rest of the table was quiet and unconvincingly pretended not to hear. 

“'M yer driver. Ya have to.”

Slit stared at him, not convinced. But, fucking horrible as it was, he trusted Nux. He was sure Nux was brainwashed somehow, of course, taken in by all those shiny people, but he also trusted Nux to not fuck everything up too horrible to be fixed when some proper Immortan rose to power soon. He sighed, giving up. Nux grinned infuriatingly. Slit decided he owed the driver a beating when they were more healed up. Possibly one that ended in their bunk. But there would definitely be violence first.

The rest of the meeting didn't directly concern him, and so he didn't listen. He noticed the red head, who he learned was called Capable -he doubted that-, flirting with Nux. Whenever he saw it he subtly nudged Nux's bad leg. He felt a little bad about exploiting Nux's injury like that, but the expressions on his and Capable's faces were so sickeningly sweet he couldn't see any alternative. Nux would have his revenge at some point, he was sure, but seemed determined to impress these people with how unlike a War Boy he was. More traitoring, Slit thought. 

Afterwards Nux and Slit limped out together, closely followed by Capable. Everyone was tense, although Slit felt mostly tired. He didn't feel like getting involved in these people's affairs was going to help him, and so he tried not to. Nux's involvement would probably leave him no choice, though. Fucking Nux. Fuck.

“Why are you so damn aggressive all the time?” Capable demanded angrily as they rounded a corner. Slit gestured helpfully to his white clay and war paint. 

“But we saved you? Everything is better now, you don't have to go to war, you don't have to die for that prick anymore!”

Slit frowned. “You didn't ask us.”

“What?”

“Old rule worked for me,” Slit said defiantly.

“You whined about it all the time,” Nux pointed out. Slit tried kicking at him, but his leg wouldn't obey.

“'S what ya do. I am good at doing war. We are. Well, maybe not you, Nux, but the rest of the War Boys,” Slit said, earning a punch to his side. His bruised ribs made themselves known again.

“Point is, what are ya gonna do with hundreds of War Boys cooped up and kept from violence for ever? 'S what we're made for.”

Capable seemed to think it over. She twirled her long red hair, twisting it till it resembled rope. Slit was fascinated.

“We convinced Nux. We can convince the others. Show them there's something better, something less violent.”

“Ya convinced him lettin' him breed ya,” Slit said, and Nux punched his face so hard Slit heard his nose break. Blood gushed down his face. Capable looked equal parts admiring and horrified. 

“Don't you fucking talk to her like that,” Nux shouted. 

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Capable said, touching Nux's shoulder softly. Nux leaned into the touch. A trainable fucking puppy with teeth. Slit grinned.

“Tha's how non-violent he is now?” Slit said, spitting blood. Nux poked him in the chest with the crutch, leaning on Capable. She had a pained expression.

“Maybe you both need a little rest,” she said carefully. Making sure Nux was steady she went to help Slit up. He accepted, painful and embarrassing as that was, because he was pretty damn sure he was physically unable to get to his feet. 

She walked with them to their bunk, seemingly having accepted this sleeping arrangement as not too damaging to her War Boy pet's healing process. Slit sat down uncomfortably. His bandages had been changed that morning, and were stiff and smelled funny, but in a less horrible way than they had. Nux joined him, carefully laying his crutch against the corner of the stone bunk. Capable stood in front of them, looking possibly even more uncomfortable. The red of her hair was threatening to invade her skin, by the looks of it.

“Look, Slit, I know you're important to Nux. On the rig he could hardly stop talking about how chrome his lancer was, and how you were meant to go to Valhalla together, and I...” she trailed off, unsure. Slit looked at her, puzzled. Nux looked embarrassed.

“And I know Nux is important to you-”

“In his war pup dreams,” Slit interrupted. Nux glared. Capable looked mildly exasperated.

“He is. And I get that you don't want him taken away, not with everything that's going on, not with how much things are changing, but I just- The Immortan isn't coming back, his rule isn't gonna come back for a long long time, maybe, hopefully ever. Things are changing, we're gonna make them get better. We're gonna try to make you better. And Nux wants that. Yeah? And I know violence is easy and it's what you War Boys have been bred and trained for, but you can help instead. You can be more than weapons. None of us are things,” she finished. 

She looked expectantly at him for a moment, then nodded to Nux, and left. Slit looked at Nux. The driver was staring at his hands, looking angry.

“Nux, I-”

“You're such a piece of shit, Slit.”

Slit could not deny this, and didn't try. He put his good hand on Nux's shoulder, rubbing small circles into the skin and messing up the clay. Nux seemed to try not leaning into the touch, and failed. The corner of Slit's mouth twitched. Nux wasn't very good at being angry.

“Yeah,” he said, after a while. “Don't know how not to be.”


	7. Spreading the word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slit tries

Slit made an effort in the time that followed. He tried to be nice to Capable, to the wives in general. That is not to say he was particularly good at it. There were. Incidents. Feelings were hurt. Also limbs. Mostly those were his, though, so it was fine. He didn't think anyone much respected his efforts other than Nux. These soft and shiny creatures were hard to please. Got their feelings hurt by the weirdest things, and you couldn't even fight it out in the pits like with the other War Boys. Barbaric. At least his driver seemed to understand.

“Thanks,” Nux said late one night, as the lay in their bunk. Nux spent a lot of time with Capable, doing V8 knew what, but he spent his nights with Nux. It was something to do with complicated feelings and the Immortan, apparently. Slit hadn't tried to hard to understand, only appreciated not having to sleep alone on the cool stone.

“Always glad to grace ya with my presence,” Slit grinned. Nux groaned.

“No. No ya know. Being all nice to them. Know you ain't doing it for their sake.”

Slit shrugged. It was true, of course. He didn't know the wives. Didn't care that much about them.

“I don't think they realize, but ya know. Thanks,” Nux told him, turning to knock his head against Slit's. Slit pulled Nux's head down with rough fingers, smashing their mouths together gracelessly. Nux pulled away, breathing heavily. Slit frowned at him. Nux shrugged, turning to face the wall. Slit made a face at the driver's back, frustrated. Nux didn't use to be like this. Probably Capable's fault. Most things were, he thought. Not that he'd tell Nux that. And he probably didn't really even believe it. Only thing he knew was things used to make more sense. Not necessarily be better, but they seemed more natural.

As the two War Boys got better they got back to work. Sort of. Back to some of the same work, some new. Slit in particular felt he wasn't spending enough time experimenting with new weapons under this regime. It was still war, of a sort. Some weapons training. Some teaching of the older pups what it meant to be a War Boy, how they'd do war when they were ready. But there were new duties too, less easy ones. Talking to groups of the Boys, trying to convince them of things Slit personally wasn't sure he agreed with. Less violence. No active warring with anyone, unless they could help it. No fighting stuff out in the pits any more. They had even wanted the War Boys to stop wearing their clay, but Slit and Nux had managed to talk Furiosa out of that one. Good protection against the sun, and they all looked chrome and terrifying. Keeping it just made sense.

Slit was sitting with a groups of smaller pups, his least favourite job. It was most War Boys least favourite job. The pups were too young to understand War Boy ways, which, he supposed, was why the wives wanted so much focus on them. He was slightly surprised they even let them near his kind, but here he was. About ten young faces caked amateurishly in white clay were looking expectantly at him. He glowered at them threateningly. If they weren't scared of him by the end he was doing it wrong. 

“When do we get to be proper War Boys?” one of them asked. He was painfully skinny, and maybe all of 3000 days old. Someone had done a shit job shaving his head, and tufts of hair were stiff and lumpy with clay.

“By the looks of ya maybe when you're 10 000 days,” Slit snarled, not entirely unsympathetically. The child's face fell. 

“Being a War Boy's more'n just goin' out on raids and killing buzzards,” Slit told the unimpressed crowd. 

“'S about being responsible. Least that's what they tell us to say now. Ain't all fast cars and sprayable chrome, as shiny as that'd be. Gotta work hard, gotta learn how the cars work. Understand the holy mystery of the V8. And, in a couple thousand days, learn how to drive. How to keep on a car goin' fast, throwin' fire at the enemy without going out too fast.”

The pups were listening, now, hint of wonder in their eyes. One them looked like he was trying to say something, but didn't quite dare.

“You there, ask what ya wanna know. Ain't no secrets in the War Boys,” Slit told him. Only half a lie.

“I wondered… I mean, could you,” the pup tried, clearly scared. The boy next to him seemed to understand, said

“Could you tell us how you got those scars?”

Slit laughed, possibly intentionally accentuating the gouges that split his face.

“It was a routine supply run about a thousand days back. Me an' Nux were new then, just got our first vehicle. It was all going fine. We went to Gastown, got the guzzoline. Tell ya the truth we were almost bored. We were half way back when the buzzards attacked. Dozens of bikes and cars. Figure they were runnin' empty, thought we'd be an easier target than goin' after Gastown itself.”

The pups were subconsciously moving closer, one of them even holding on the others' hands, although he let go as soon as he noticed Slit looking at them. Their eyes were wide, innocent, but caught up in the tale of blood and glory. How it should be, Slit thought, before breaking his dramatic pause.

“We took down a few bikes, Nux and me, blowing the buzzard bastards to pieces. It was goin' well, until one of the cars rammed into us from over a dune. Threw me off the perch. I was barely hanging on, but I managed to grab a lance, toss it over our car at them, and they went down. Trouble was, we'd stopped paying attention to our other side. Another car came at us, trying to slice up our tyres. Somehow, though, I got hold of another lance, managed to wreck the machine, but goin' down the saw went through my face, and lemme tell ya, there used to be a lot more staples than this. Lesson is pups, always stay on yer car.”

Someone clapped slowly behind him. He frowned, turned. Capable was standing a couple feet away, apparently having heard his entire story. She was grinning. 

“That isn't quite how Nux said it happened,” she said teasingly. He glared at her, shooed the pups off to the next unlucky War Boy. He walked up to Capable, got a little too close.

“An' how does he tell it?” he asked, doing his best to look terrifying. By the look in her eyes he wasn't doing as well as he should be.

“Told me you fell asleep in the repair bay and some careless War Boy dropped a knife on your face,” she smirked. That was closer to the truth than Slit was entirely comfortable with, and he suspected she noticed as much.

“Gotta inspire the pups,” he said gruffly. “How else are ya gonna make 'em good soldiers.”

“Again that isn't really what we're after,” she told him with a hint of disappointment. “But I supposed being able to defend the Citadel is going to be important whether we want it to be or not.”

“Just 'cause you're doin' this peaceful thing don't mean anyone else is going to,” Slit told her harshly. “The Bullet Farmer an' People Eater had seconds and thirds in command, someone'll keep those places goin' too, and they likely ain't as soft as you.”

Capable sighed, looked down, absently started twirling her hair into rope again. Slit had to admit, looking at her, that he could see why Nux was so taken. She was shiny, hair like fire, skin all soft. Seemed, he had to admit, to be as capable of anything as her name suggested too. She was supposed to be in charge of “rehabilitating” the War Boys, whatever that meant. And making sure the war pups grew up safer and better. Which he supposed was fine. He didn't particularly want the war pups to die, but he also thought going through what they had was what made the War Boys so ruthless and deadly in war. 

“'S good. What ye're doin',” he mumbled, looking around to see nobody had heard. “For the pups, I mean. For Nux too, I guess. I don't like it, but it's probably good.”

Capable looked up at him, mouth quirking into a smile: genuine, not mocking.

“Clearly Nux is good for you too. I won't tell anyone,” she promised, and walked over to a group of slightly older pups, checking they were doing allright. Slit's heart was racing, and he couldn't figure out why. Probably some old war wound. Yeah, he decided, that sounded right. He probably just needed to discreetly grab some of the restricted drugs from what used to be the Organic's place. Yeah, that was it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1: only one chapter today, but slightly longer and also here is an accompanying illustration of everyone's fave lizard: http://indiasierrabravo.tumblr.com/post/122328077137/there-is-so-much-sun-i-cant-tell-if-this-looks 
> 
> 2: I really badly want to write about the cool cars but I know literally nothing about cars, I can't even drive
> 
> 3: I really badly want to write in some sexy parts but I literally cannot physically type it out without it becoming super awkward and incredibly unsexy hope do you guys do it teach me


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A driving lesson written by someone who has never had a driving lesson  
> Also there are feelings

“Look, I'm not saying ya need to be a driver with yer own lancer and things, I just think ya haven't lived till ya know how to drive!”

“Why would I need to? Literally everyone else in the Citadel does, it's very unlikely I'll ever be the only option.”

“Don't ya wanna? Feel the wind, feel the power of going faster than anything?”

“I… I don't know. Maybe?”

“Just lemme teach you!”

The mechanic bay was hot and loud as always, but Slit couldn't avoid overhearing Nux's attempts to teach Capable to drive. While Slit was hardly the expert driver Nux was, he agreed that no knowing how to drive a car, that was basically like having no legs. Like being unable to move properly for your whole life, and she didn't even know it. He was tinkering with some of the lances, trying to figure out a way to improve the efficiency without his experiment blowing up in his face. He'd seen that happen to another lancer once. Not the most glorious death. Also, disgusting for anyone close by.

“Don't have more important duties than teaching me how to drive anyway?”

“Never anything more important than you.”

Slit made exaggerated retching sounds, but stood up and walked over to the gently bickering couple. 

“You,” he said, nodding at Capable, “are gonna learn how to drive, and you're gonna do it today. No one here needs this… this,” he indicated the conversation as best he could.

“An' I'm goin' with ya,” he added, “to make sure ya do some actual driving.”

Nux had the decency to look embarrassed. Capable looked defiant, but nodded after a moment. They found one of the plainer cars, not modded enough to be confusing to Capable, but still fitted with a lancer's perch and a flame thrower. Just the basics. Slit wanted to get one with a mounted machine gun as well, but the others didn't think it would come in necessary. He did grab a bundle of explosive lances, though. You never knew when you might need someone to explode. 

They headed out, Nux driving and explaining to Capable as they went. At least that's what Slit assumed was happening. He was on top of the car. It felt wrong to just sit inside. No sun, no clear view of potential enemies. No one to throw any explosives that might need to be thrown. He did, however, follow what was happening in the car through the side mirror. 

Nux was, to put it mildly, enthusiastic. Cars and Capable were his two favourite things -not things never things, he had to remember that- were his two favourites of everything ever, so that wasn't surprising. Capable seemed to be having fun, too. She was asking questions, it looked like, pointing out things he couldn't quite make out. There was a lot of Nux gently holding her hand over things and, Slit assumed, explaining what they were for. 

The desert sun was hot and intense, and so was the metal of the car. Slit had thought anything hot would be like nothing compared to getting blown up, but it was still unpleasant. While he felt well enough to be on top of the car, he was fairly certain he would have been a shit lancer that day. His throwing arm was still stiff and painful and moved slow, and everything took twice as much energy as it should have. He wasn't even sure he'd smeared enough grease around his eyes, because the glare bothered him more than it should. The horizon seemed to swim a little, and he was glad when they stopped for a little while.

“So, think ye're ready to drive on yer own?” Slit asked.

“I… I'm not sure. But I'm gonna try. How hard can it be when you two can do it,” Capable replied, grinning. 

Slit barked out a laugh, whilst Nux looked mildly insulted. Then he caught himself, look at her all pride and admiration.

“Ye're gonna be the chromest driver, Capable, I'm sure,” he told her, elbowing Slit when he started to speak.

“Be fine,” Slit agreed through gritted teeth. His ribs were healed, but still hurt like Hel at the slightest provocation. He rubbed what would probably turn into a bruise, hissing at the burning metal of the staples holding his stomach together. These things hadn't used to bother him. Must still be soft after the explosion. Fucking useless. He climbed back onto the car as Nux gave Capable some last minute instructions. She was wearing gloves again, and had goggles on her head that were pushing her ridiculously long and bright red hair back to sway in the wind. Nux looked at her like she were the holy V8 itself. 

The reassuring took a while, it turned out, because Slit lay a long time looking out at the dunes. He loved the desert. It was such a contrast to the Citadel. Warm and dry instead of cool and humid. Wide open instead of cramped and crowded. The sand was a lot softer than anything in the War Boys' part of the Citadel, though it also had the potential to burn and cut when you fell fast enough. The desert was freedom. Freedom from the Citadel, freedom from the old regime and new. And freedom from- his thoughts were interrupted as the car started up. 

Capable did reasonably well. Or at least, Slit had seen pups do much worse. She managed to drive fairly steady, at least with Nux's hands on teaching methods. It wasn't a smooth ride, but he didn't expect that. Capable slowly tried more things. Speeding up, going fast over shallow dunes, almost making the car jump. Slit suspected this was Nux's idea. Always liked trying to make a game of almost throwing Slit off. He knocked on the roof after a particularly bumpy stretch, yelling at them to drive straight. It got a bit better after that. At least for a while.

The sun was sinking fast toward the horizon, and they were still a good way away from the Citadel. Capable was driving faster again, trying to get back before dark. That's when it all went wrong. There was something buried in the sand, they found later, some sharp bit of scrap metal from a crash long ago, and one of the front wheels went over it, getting ripped up badly, sending the car spinning. Slit, being tired after a day of holding on with still hurting muscles, was thrown off quite violently. He tumbled across the sand, getting scratched and burnt, but not too badly. He ended up half buried in a dune, sand in every orifice. Coughing and clawing at his face he tried to get the sand out, tried to see what had happened to the others and the car.

The car was fine. Mostly. Nux and Capable were also fine, also mostly. Capable was bleeding from a small cut on her forehead, and was a bit bruise, but otherwise good. Nux said his leg might have gotten broken worse, but a slightly closer inspection showed it was just bruised bad. He was going to be fine. The slightly bigger problem now was that one of the tyres was ripped up, and whatever idiot's car this was did not keep a spare one in. 

The car was covered in sand, inside and out, and it was at that point fairly clear that they wouldn't be driving back to the Citadel before dark. Capable suggested they walk, but none of them felt like starting what was probably a six hour walk in the rapidly sinking temperature. They would, they figure, walk back in the morning. That would probably be fine.

“We're gonna freeze to death,” Capable announced a short time later. 

Nux and Slit were shirtless, that was true. She herself was wearing a thin shirt and loose pants, made for keeping heat out rather than in. There were of course no blankets in the car. No War Boy would keep any, not even for emergencies, because they Were Not Soft, but at that moment Capable thought was silly pride. Slit tried to argue, but frankly he was cold enough to agree. They swept what sand they could out of the car, and crammed themselves into the back seat together. It was not a car intended for passengers, and certainly not for three of them. 

Capable was in the middle, mashed between Nux and Slit. She hadn't wanted to be, but Nux and Slit both thought she deserved the most heat. Nux had his arm around her shoulders. Slit tried the same, but she shrugged him off. He sat, awkwardly clasping his hands. There really wasn't enough room to keep out of each others personal space, but he tried. 

“So,” Capable said.

“You did real good today, driving and all that,” Nux said. Slit snorted.

“Anyone could've accidentally hit buried salvage,” Nux said defensively. Capable smiled.

“'S a testament to my lancer skills I wasn't thrown off earlier,” Slit replied. 

“'S only cause ye're weak,” Nux teased, all scarred grin and bright blue eyes. 

“Are you always like this?” Capable asked.

“Like what?”

“You know...” she began, seemingly trying to phrase whatever she was about to say carefully. “So aggressive? I've never heard you say anything nice to each other. Just taunts and insults. Is it always like that? Are you all?”

Slit and Nux looked at each other, and nodded. 

“Anyone who ain't don't survive past bein' a warpup,” Slit began.

“It ain't really insults,” Nux elaborated, but Capable still seemed puzzled.

“In the Citadel ye're never alone, right. Always War Boys around, always someone listenin'. Ya can't be soft, can't be seen to be. So if you want to say somethin' soft, you hide it in somethin' sharp.”

Capable frowned, fiddling with her hair. She seemed to do that when she was thinking Slit thought. Maybe it helped. Maybe that was why all the clean shaven War Boys spent so much more time doing than thinking. Would explain a great deal.

“So what you're saying is you're all really complimenting each other, being nice all the time?”

Capable laughed at the expressions on their faces.

“Ain't like that,” Slit said, slightly horrified. “Is just. When ya. When ya don't dislike someone, they know. And they know all the insults and that, they ain't mean. 'S not like we go around telling each other our war paint looks nice today or whatever you wives do in the vault.”

“I've told you not to call us that,” Capable chided. “But I think I understand a bit more.”

Slit nodded. He tried to think of a better way to explain it, but Nux beat him to it.

“Ya know, when Slit makes fun of my driving. He knows I'm the chromest damn driver in the Citadel-”

“That's a fuckin' lie,” Slit interrupted.

“Like that. He tells me I'm shit, but he'd never switch to another driver.”

Capable looked at Slit and he grimaced, but nodded. 

“Nux may be shit, but everyone else is a lot more shit,” he agreed almost fondly.

Capable had that expression he sometimes saw on her face when she was watching the youngest pups playing. Slit felt like he should be insulted, but he wasn't. There was a sort of warmth in his chest, and he almost looked down to see whether he was bleeding. It felt… Less wrong than it should. He decided to ignore it. Safest thing to do.

“Isn't it hard, though, to tell whether the insult is real or, well, whatever the other thing is. Nice, I guess?”

“Nah,” Nux said. “If ya don't like people ya tend to end up fighting them. In the pits or sometimes anywhere. Dunno if you've noticed, but War Boys're pretty direct.”

“Did you two ever fight like that?”

“Once or twice,” Slit told her, “when one of us pissed the other off too much. Like when someone accidentally kicked me outta the bunk in the middle of the night every night for twenty fucking days.”

Nux looked down. He still seemed to feel guilty about that, and for some reason that made Slit feel guilty. Fuck.

“Or when someone accidentally dropped a lance on our car and it destroyed a hundred days of custom work,” he added. 

That had been fairly embarrassing. Nux had absolutely hated him, and when they met in the pits he'd kicked the shit out of Slit. Hadn't been able to walk right for weeks. He had had to beat up a couple guys for laughing at him for losing to the skinny driver, too.

“Who used to win?”

“Mostly whoever was most pissed off,” Nux told her, unexpectedly honest. 

Slit looked at him. Nux shrugged.

“Nux was better,” Slit added. “He did it a lot more'n me. Lancers get more trainin'. Have to stay in shape to fight on top of a car. Drivers are lazy fuckers. Need to do it on their own time.”

He did not say that it was because Nux had a lot of anger to let out. Didn't say he started doing it a lot more when Larry and Barry appeared. Or that fighting helped Nux sleep without shaking so much. Nux seemed to notice. Looked gratefully at Slit over Capable's shoulder. She was smiling, looking impressed. Good.

The car was quiet for a while. It felt colder, somehow, when they stopped talking. Or maybe it was because the sun was long gone, and the cold blue sky was creeping in through the cracks in the windows. Nux yawned, made himself more comfortable. He leaned a little more against Capable. His painted skin looked even more ghostly in the dark, his face like a real skull when he closed his eyes. He would like that.

It wasn't very long until Nux was snoring softly, occasionally interrupted by pained wheezing as Larry and Barry made themselves known. Capable softly traced the two lumps, looking at their little faces. 

“How long has he had these?” she asked, her voice a low whisper.

“Maybe about seven hundred days,” Slit replied. “They were smaller, then. Organic said they were there before that, though, hiding.”

Capable nodded, looking worried.

“They used to be able to fix that,” she said. “I read it in one of the books we had in the vault. They used to use machines and chemicals and things, and they made the lumps and the badness go away. I wonder if we'll ever learn how to do that again.”

“He'll live a while yet,” Slit told her. 

He knew how she felt. Had been feeling that way for seven hundred days. Had spent a lot of nights laying awake and listening to Nux's breathing, making sure it was still there. Making sure Nux hadn't gone cold and still. He wasn't sure he could deal with that. Didn't want to think about it, but couldn't help doing so.

“I hope so,” Capable whispered. 

Slit put a hand on her shoulder in agreement. He was pleasantly surprised when she didn't flinch away.

“You love him, don't you?” she asked.

Slit hesitated.

“I mean, you probably wouldn't put it like that, I guess you War Boys don't, but you know what I mean, right?”

Slit frowned, nodded.

“In the same way I do.”

It wasn't a question, but Slit nodded anyway. He was very carefully looking at the back of the seat in front of him.

“I guessed. I mean, I suppose that explains why you were so angry at me.”

“Woulda been angry at ya anyway.”

“Still. Made it worse.”

Slit shrugged, then nodded.

“I'm pretty sure he likes us both in the same way, too.”

“Yeah,” Slit said. “Greedy fucker.”

Capable smiled, nearly a laugh. Nux twitched in his sleep, and she rubbed small circles into his shoulders, calming him. Slit watched. 

“Works better a little lower on his back,” he told her, “makes his lungs remember they have to push harder to get past Larry and Barry.”

She followed his advice, and Nux seemed to sleep a bit calmer. The car fell silent again, and soon after, Slit was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably made some really dumb mistakes please forgive me.   
> Also I apologise a bit for the last chapter. It wasn't particularly good, and didn't add that much to the story. I just feel like I should be able to write something every day, and I don't spend enough -read any- time editing these. One the other hand I am doing this so fun, so kind of fuck it.


	9. Back seat bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one mostly takes place in the back seat of a car, but again, not like you're thinking. Dang.

When Slit woke, his head was resting on Capable shoulder. She was still asleep, her head leaning against his again. Nux was sprawled over them both, his head in Slit's lap. His breath tickled Slit's stomach, and half his clay had rubbed of on Slit's pants, it seemed.

The sun was out again, now. It was getting warmer, and the car was flooded with the warm morning light. The desert stretched out in every direction. It was tempting, almost, not going back to the Citadel. Just driving. Driving forever, like the promise of Valhalla. Eternal highways. It wasn't that Slit particularly disliked the Citadel or his life there, not even now that it was changing so much. It would just be nice to leave there sometimes. Well, to leave there but not specifically to do war. He liked doing war. But just being there in the relative space and quiet was nice. 

He didn't want to wake the others yet, although he suspected they should probably start walking before it got even warmer. Not that it would make much difference, it would be pretty helish either way. He had never thought of hanging onto the back of a car as relaxing, but actually walking all that distance in the heat without the wind in his face would be worse. A lot worse. But this bit, right, right now. He wanted to keep that. No complicated new stuff, no violent old. Just. Just this, just now. 

But moment don't really do that. They pass. This time it was because Nux started coughing so hard he woke himself up. Slit rubbed his shoulder.

“Hey, it's okay, it's okay,” he murmured, both to calm Nux and to not wake Capable, who seemed to have somehow slept through the coughing fit. 

Nux wriggled around so he could look up at Slit. The paint on one side of his face was almost gone, leaving pink skin imprinted with the fabric of Slit's pants. He smiled sleepily. 

“Mornin',” Nux whispered.

“Sleep good? Breathe okay all night?”

“Yeah, think so,” Nux said, voice still hoarse.

Slit nodded carefully, and attempted to disentangle himself from Capable without waking her. 

“Gotta admit, not lookin' forward to our walk this mornin',” Nux said.

He made no move to get away from Slit's lap, just wriggled around to lay on his back more comfortably. His face always looked so innocent. It was those huge blue eyes accentuated by the black grease. The smudged paint didn't help either. But Slit knew Nux, had always known him, and knew he could be quite vicious when he needed to. He'd watched some of the fights Nux had been in, and the opponents usually had to spend a couple of days at the Organic's afterwards. Nux fought dirty and he fought to the end. The only reason Slit had beat him, he secretly suspected, was because however angry Nux had been, he hadn't wanted to hurt him seriously. 

Nux getting real angry tended to be bad. He'd stay like that for ages, not talking not doing anything but working. He'd been like that when the Organic found Larry and Barry. And Slit had understood. Had tried to be there but not to interfere. It was hard. You never knew how serious the lumps were, either. Ace had had larger ones on his neck than Nux, and for longer, and he had been ancient. Well. Ancient by War Boy standards, anyway. Of course, he was dead now. But that was war, so that didn't count. Slit knew he was lucky that he was free of any. Or, at least any that weren't on his lower leg. He got really drunk one night, and decided that cutting them off would solve the problem. And it did. At least they hadn't reappeared. But on the other hand half his left calf was a scarred crater now. Couldn't even show the scar off properly. Useless.

“I thought I heard ya talkin' tonight,” Nux said, interrupting his train of thought. “While I was half sleepin'. Didn't say nothin' too bad about me, didya?”

“Told her 'bout that time you set the Gigahorse on fire,” Slit teased.

“That is a filthy fuckin' lie,” Nux exclaimed, probably louder than he meant to. 

Capable stirred, her hair moving like waves as she shifted. 

“Mmrgh,” she said eloquently. 

“Mmmggornng,” she added, after a moments thought.

Apparently she was not a morning person. She had had that luxury, perhaps. The War Boys had little choice, having to get up early if they wanted any chance to get some food before it ran out. There were always a couple sleepy Boys who went hungry to their work assignments. Slit had been one a few times, but Nux usually woke earlier, and it was hard to sleep through his energy. Especially when he started each morning by chattering to himself as he climbed over you out of the bunk. 

“What're ya smilin' about?” Nux asked, looking suspiciously at him.

“Yer dumb ass.”

“Mmm, just love thinkin' bout my ass, don'tcha,” Nux teased, trying to look seductive.

He failed, but in what Slit would have called an adorable way, had the word been in his vocabulary. Slit patted Nux on his head condescendingly. Nux pouted. Capable brushed her her out of her face and rubbed her eyes.

“Are we still in the desert?” she asked hopefully.

“Yeah.”

“Damn. Was hoping that bit was a dream.”

She sighed, and started twirling her hair again.

“What is that thing?” Slit asked.

“What, my hair?”

“That thing you do, when you make it into rope, what is that?”

“Braiding it, you mean? I don't know. Just making it so it stays out of the way, I suppose.”

Slit frowned. He couldn't really remember having anything more than a few millimetres of hair hair every week before it was shaved off again. It seemed out to do things to it. Out of all the wives, he'd assumed Toast (he'd learned all their names now, mostly after Nux yelled at him for getting it wrong.) was the most sensible, because hers was almost as short as Furiosa's. He supposed it kept sun off your head when you didn't paint it, but it seemed like a bother.

“If ya shaved it off like anyone sane it'd always be out of your way.”

“Yeah, but I like it like this.”

“Why?”

Slit realised the second he said it that that sounded like an insult. Which he hadn't meant it as, for once. He was just curious. He saw Capable work the same thing out before he had time to take it back.

“Made me feel different from you lot, I suppose. I mean, back when things were the way they were. And when Toast cut hers, Joe was furious. Beat her,” she said, and shuddered. 

Nux moved then, got up off their laps, and put his hands on Capable's shoulders. She took them in her own, nodded her thanks at the gesture. Slit was unsure what to do. He hadn't spent enough time with the wives to have seen them talk much about what they went through at the hands of the Immortan. Clearly it had been worse than he thought. He had sort of assumed they just lounged about, relaxing and bathing in all that aqua cola or whatever. Fucking the Immortan. Maybe fucking each other. That last might have been a late night fantasy of his, though, and as such maybe not based on much evidence.

“'S allright,” Nux was telling her. “You're good, you're good, it's all good. Safe.”

Capable nodded, blinking away wetness in her eyes. Slit tried to look apologetic, but neither his nature nor his face was particularly well suited to the task. 

“S'rry,” he mumbled.

“No, I'm. I just, I know it's been a little while, but it doesn't feel like long,” Capable said. “Joe dying, I mean. I know you worshipped him, but you never had to, you know, know him.”

Slit supposed this might be true. He had never been closer to the man than a hundred feet. Had only heard him speak to crowds. Orders had come through others. Rictus, mostly. Or the imperators sometimes, or most senior War Boys. Truth to be told, he wasn't sure he'd recognize the Immortan without his breathing mask.

Now it was Nux apologising to Capable, and she telling him it wasn't his fault for being raised to worship and fight for the Immortan. Which was also true, but Nux's devotion had been pretty fucking fervent up until he got stuck on the rig. Until the Immortan himself had declared him mediocre. Nux had told Slit about that, the mix of disappointment and hopelessness and then wonder at Capable for showing him mercy, for showing him a better way. Slit thought that the Immortan telling him was useless might have a lot to to with his traitoring, but he hadn't said as much. He figured if Nux wanted to believe Capable was a goddess who saved him, who was Slit to ruin a romantic story.

It took about an hour before anyone managed to talk anyone else into starting their walk of shame back to the Citadel. Nux fantasized about making a wheel out of whatever non vital things they could salvage from the rest of the car, but even he couldn't make that idea work. And so the sun was high in the sky when they crawled out of the half wrecked car, brushing sand out of their clothes. They walked briskly at first, or as briskly as you could walk through loose sand. Which was not very. But they soon got tired of even trying.

“Hey, look! I can see it,” Capable exclaimed happily about two hours in.

It was a blurry shape on the shimmering horizon. The heat was making everything a bit hard to see, and to be absolutely honest, he was not quite healed up. Not enough for half a days hike, anyway. And the sun was burning. The clay on his back had been worn thin, and his skin felt blistery. 

“What're the odds they worried and sending a vehicle out to meet us, ya think?” Nux asked.

“'S only been a day.”

“Yeah, I s'pose. Think my leg's tryin' to break itself in despair.”

“Hey, I thought you War Boys were supposed to be tough, not moan and whine at the slightest difficulty,” Capable teased, jogging up the closest dune. 

Slit glared at her, insulted that the soft wife was doing better than him. Also impressed by her, but he wasn't going to admit that to himself yet. The heat and pain were bringing out his inner usually well-hidden grumpiness.

“Witness me,” Nux said half heartedly, sinking down to his knees.

“Not funny,” Capable accused. 

Slit had gathered she was watching when Nux tried to drive to his death. Which, he supposed, was not something he would have wanted to experience. Not unless they were going out together. He would have liked to see the moment Rictus was crushed by a boulder or some piece of machinery or whatever. But seeing his corpse was pretty satisfying too. He hauled Nux to his feet, put his arm over his shoulder and helped him on. Nux had the dignity to only complain and claim he could handle it for a minute or two. They walked on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to point out, by the way, that I'm assuming the Norse references in the religion include Hel, and so I'm using that, not repeatedly misspelling hell. Just to be clear.
> 
> Also, thank you all for all the nice comments! It's nice to hear you seem to like the way I write the grumpy lizard and things. If anyone wants to talk at great length about Mad Max my tumblr is indiasierrabravo and I am very lonely in my War Boy obsession there.


	10. Standard Bitter Love Song #8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Standard awkward naked bath scene

The sun was still roasting them alive when they finally, finally were within a kilometre of the Citadel. The Boys had some protection, but Capable's skin had gone as scarlet as her hair. Everything was sand. Capable's hair was approximately 65% sand, by this point. All Slit's pockets, and there were at least twenty, were full of sand. He had fallen of cars and into the sand, and he had thought that was bad. It had been nothing compared to this sandy helscape. Trudging through it for hours and hours was as far from Valhalla as you could get. Except that he was clearly dying. He said as much.

“Witnessing,” Nux mumbled unenthusiastically.

“Come on, it's only a few minutes,” Capable said, possibly because she, as her name suggested, was capable of walking without a series of wounds that were now filled with sand and fire and pain.

Slit wasn't bitter. In fact he prided himself on his sunny disposition and forgiving nature. It was what made people like him. 

“Ye're just happy 'cause they're gonna praise V8 you're back while they yell at us for not protectin' ya good enough,” Slit said, not bitterly.

“Maybe,” Capable said, voice tired, “They'll at you because you're an asshole and no one likes you.”

“Nux likes me,” Slit told her defensively. 

“No I don't.”

“Fuck off.”

They waded on through the sand. They were starting to see groups of the wretched scattered around, now. Poor souls with nothing but the rags on their backs. Slit had always been of the opinion that they deserved to be like this. He wasn't sure why, he had just always sort of known it. But to be fair, he rarely examined his opinions. Probably someone who knew or cared more had explained it to him years ago. Capable was looking at them with big, sad eyes. He was vaguely aware that something was being done about bettering their lives, but he hadn't paid any attention. It hadn't concerned him or the War Boys.

They were let up into the Citadel proper half an hour later. They stood on the platform as it was jerkily raised from the ground, swaying from both the height, the heat and exhaustion. Capable thought they probably had something called heatstroke. Slit wasn't sure what that was. The heat felt more like it was beating him with sticks, not stroking him.

“What the hell happened?” Toast asked them as soon as they got of the platform.

“Capable can't drive for shit,” Slit informed her.

“Of course she can't, yesterday was her first time! What were you thinking?”

“It's okay Toast. We just blew a tyre. Car's mostly fine, we just didn't have the stuff to fix it. We're not hurt. Well, not much, anyway,” Capable told the Toast, trying to calm her.

“And the sun struck us and now we're dyin',” Nux supplied. “More'n usual, I mean.”

“Useless battlefodder,” Toast mumbled. “Allright. Okay. Let's get you guys some water. You must be half dead of thirst.”

They were given an entire bottle of aqua cola each. Slit's amazement at the new rationing system never ceased. Apparently the aqua cola beneath the ground would last forever and they could use as much as they wanted. Well, someone, probably Furiosa, had talked about sustainability and other words he didn't know. But essentially, everyone had ten times as much aqua cola as they wanted. He drank the entire bottle in one, and felt sick. Still, it was better than a stomach full of sand. They were leaving piles of the stuff everywhere they went, and Toast shooed them into a room with a sunken pool full of water, telling them not to come out until they and their clothes were free of sand.

When Toast closed the door, Nux and Slit immediately began stripping down. The countless straps and belts on their pants took some time, and so it took a few moments before they noticed Capable standing completely frozen. She seemed deeply uncomfortable. 

“Wha's wrong?” Nux asked her.

“I, that is,” she said. 

It was hard to tell, horribly sunburnt as she was, but Slit thought he saw her face going redder. Did she not want to see them naked? He was a bit offended at that. They were prime examples of healthy adult War Boys. Well, adult War Boys, at least. Maybe his new burn scars, which were quite horrifying, were putting her off. Shame. He thought they looked pretty chrome. No one would dare mess with him for ages, probably. Except Nux, and that sort of messing was fine.

“Uh, do you want to. I mean. You could turn around and we wash all quick, and then we can turn around and you wash?” Nux offered.

Oh. She was embarrassed about them seeing her. Or her seeing them. Or both. Anyone who was not a War Boy was clearly both confused and confusing, Slit concluded. 

“I'd really appreciate that,” Capable said, head down, face obscured by her long hair.

“Ye're welcome to look at us, though. If ya want,” Nux added cheerfully.

Capable hid her face in her hands. Nux looked at little confused. Slit grinned.

“C'mon, Capable. We're the chromest lookin' War Boy's ye'll find in the entire Citadel,” Slit teased.

She made a tiny noise, and sat down on the floor, hands still covering her face. Slit shrugged, and continued pulling his pants off. He poured a couple of sand dunes out of his boots, and declared them fine. His pants he threw in the water, sloshed them about a bit, and laid them on the warm stone to dry. They were in one of the higher areas of the Citadel, far away from the damp of the War Boy's sleeping quarters, and the stone floor was warm. There was even a small window hole on the wall, letting in a thin ray of sunlight. They all avoided it. 

When Slit sunk down into the warm water he was fairly sure he had gone to Valhalla. His muscles all seemed to be suddenly fine. His skin stopped burning. Everything was pleasant and floaty. He was able to enjoy it for exactly thirty seconds before Nux hopped in, splashing him. He grunted, and started rubbing the white clay off his skin. The water quickly became a greyish mess. 

It was always surreal, seeing his actual skin colour. They wore the clay so much Slit often forgot it wasn't actually what they looked like. He looked over at Nux. The taller Boy's pale pink skin was peeking through the runny white mess in patches. Slit waded over, and started wiping the Clay from Nux's back. Nux leaned into the touch, making small, happy noises, and Slit realised his driver had tricked him into massaging his shoulders again. Every fucking time.

“No, don't stop,” Nux pleaded pitifully when Slit went back to removing his own paint.

“Yer turn,” Slit said gruffly, rubbing the stubborn clay out of rough scar tissue.

Nux sighed, but splashed more water on Slit's back, rubbing at it. It was, Slit had to admit, a very pleasant sensation. His body had also seemed to notice that it was a pleasant sensation. He backed up, gradually, until his back was pressed against Nux's chest. He could feel the scarred V8, and frankly, this was probably as close to a religious experience as he would get. He turned around clumsily in the water. Nux's face looked so different without the war paint. All soft. Scars accentuating his cheekbones and skull toothed smile, sure, he still had those, but there was also soft looking skin, eyebrows made extra messy with water, big blue eyes. A jawline that might not even be there. Slit leaned his head to gently head butt Nux, mostly hitting his nose because the asshole was infuriatingly tall. The scar across Nux's nose might possibly have been made by Slit head butting him slightly too viciously while forgetting the height difference. 

Slit dragged a hand down Nux's chest, enjoying the feel of the raised scar. Nux's eyes fluttered shut. He leaned into Slit's continued touch, edging forward till there was hardly any space between them. Slit felt Nux's hardening dick nudging his stomach, gliding over the staples there. He swallowed, breathing harder. His hand was edging towards Nux's ass when the door burst open.

“Knock knock,” the Dag said after entering, then “oh.”

She giggled. Fucking giggled, and made no attempt to pretend she wasn't staring as the War Boys scrambled away from each other and Capable who might or might not have been watching yelled at her to get out. The Dag didn't seem bothered.

“I'm just here with some saving salve,” she told them brightly. “Make your sunburns feel like soft kisses. First time I've made it. Give me a full report later. Not just on the salve.”

She put a clay pot of something unidentifiable on the floor.

“Oh and Capable. Good for you,” she added cheerfully, before closing the door.

Slit groaned. What the fuck was wrong with these people. The moment was gone, and Nux was clambering out of the water, telling Capable it was her turn. Slit grumbled, but rubbed the last of the stubborn grease out of his eye sockets and followed Nux. His pants were nowhere near dry, but frankly, at this point, he would be fine never being completely dry again. He pulled them on clumsily, while Nux investigated the pot the Dag had left them.

They sat facing the wall as Capable bathed, helping each other rub the salve into particularly bad burns. Slit wasn't sure it actually helped, but he supposed the cold tingle was better than the itch it replaced. He caught Nux trying to discreetly glance at Capable when he thought Slit wasn't looking. Nux quickly averted his eyes after a moment each time, and Slit was too amused watching him to say anything. Also Nux probably wanted Capable to think that wasn't the sort of thing Nux would do. 

“Glory be,” Nux muttered under his breath.

Slit nudged him.

“S'rry,” he muttered, probably mostly to himself.

Slit gave a half smile. One that meant that de knew Nux was an asshole, but was willing not to tell. For a price. Nux rolled his eyes.

“Hey, uh, Nux, could you?” Capable asked, looking over her shoulder at them, glaring at Slit when he caught her eye. She had gotten out of the water, and was wearing some clean pants that had been left for her, and some white gauze wound around her chest. A puddle of cloth that might be some sort of shirt lay next to her.

“Sure,” Nux said. “I mean, could I what?”

“Could you put the salve on my back? I can't reach.”

Nux scrambled over to help her, gently sweeping her dripping wet hair over her shoulder and gently rubbing the tingling salve into her badly burnt skin. Slit slouched against the wall with his arms crossed, rolling his eyes at them. He suspected this part would last a lot longer than it needed to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Toast and the Dag a lot and there will be a little more of them. But still mainly Slit and Nux and Capable because they are my dumb faves. In a perfect world there would be actual smut in this chapter.
> 
> Also it's like 1:45 am and I'm already tired do not go near nature it will ruin your nocturnal unhealthy sleeping habits.


	11. Pillow Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another one of those chapters in a bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day I will write a chapter of this while completely sober. Or not start writing at eleven pm. Also the soundtrack for writing this entire fic so far has been iOTA's spotify. If you were wondering. Probably not.

“You look so human,” Capable said, sitting cross-legged in front of Slit and staring at his unpainted face.

Slit narrowed his eyes. That sounded like not a compliment. Somehow.

“'Scuse me?”

“No, I just mean. Wearing all the clay and things, you guys look like, you know, War Boys. Like War Boys and not people, and I keep forgetting you have faces...”

And she told them off for not being nice. Fucking hel. He gave her a look to try and convey this.

“No, I- I'm sorry. You're right. I'm just so used to seeing you as the enemy. Like you see spiky cars and thing buzzards, enemy, I see painted War Boys and think danger. I know better, it's just. I've been here so long it takes time to adjust, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Slit said. “I get that. I know I ain't exactly pretty, but ya gotta understand, being scary, chrome War Boys is everything.”

They were in one of the upper rooms, which had previously belonged to Rictus. It had a long, flat window, fit for a sniper, through which the sun shone half heartedly. There was a giant bed there, and Slit and Capable were sitting on it. Nux lay dozing curled up around them. Slit didn't know what Rictus had used a giant bed for. Admittedly he'd been a large man, but still. Maybe to prove something. Prove he was the son of the Immortan. Or that he was not only that. Whatever the reason was, Slit didn't mind using it. The mattress was unsettlingly soft compared to the bunk he was used to, but he didn't mind too much.

Both he and Nux were still unpainted, covering themselves in the strange salve every couple of hours. Capable had to do so too, but twice as often. The Dag had the declared them all unfit for work on, apparently, her own authority, but by the look on her face Slit suspected she had a hidden motive in keeping the three of them locked up in the same room. He respected her drive, but missed having something to fix, something to blow up, something to keep his hands busy. Idleness did not come easy to War Boys.  
“You're quite handsome, though, ignoring the scars. With them, terrifying, I promise.”

Slit frowned, not sure how to respond to that. He nodded. That seemed safe. Capable laughed, but not mockingly. That was also new. Slit was beginning to realise that he wasn't very good at interacting with people who weren't War Boys. Capable seemed to understand that. Or was starting to, anyway. Nux must be rubbing off on him because V8 help him he actually liked her. 

“Mm the chromest,” Nux agreed sleepily. 

Slit fell back against the bed, so he was lying next to Nux. It was still weird seeing the other War Boy out of paint for so long. He could understand Capable. The young face did not look much like the vicious War Boy Nux could absolutely be when he needed too. No, this was the face of a young man, barely grown up, full of innocence and joy. Except the scars. But without the war paint it didn't make his face look like a skull, just a scarred boy. 

“The fuck are we s'posed to do here until the Dag lets us out, anyway?”

“She's not locked us in Slit. You aren't being punished. It's for your own good.”

“Since when's that not the same thing?”

Capable sighed, looking at the boys, as she sometimes did, like they were two legged puppies that didn't know they were supposed to have twice as many limbs. She looked around the mostly bare room, and shrugged.

“What did you guys usually do in your free time?”

“Drugs,” Slit said.

“Fights,” Nux added.

“Fuck Nux into the stone so hard he couldn't walk,” Slit said, and was promptly lightly punched in the face.

Capable looked displeased. Unsurprised, but displeased.

“Was the other way round, anyway,” Nux said, dodging a retaliatory kick.

“Every prejudiced idea I had of the War Boys. Every single one. Completely true,” Capable said flatly.

“Happy to help,” Slit said, closing his eyes and resting his head on Nux's shoulder.

“Can you,” Nux began after a moment, “Uh, can you tell us what it was like?”

“What what was like?”

“You know, your life. The sisters' lives. Before everything, I mean, before Furiosa got you out?”

“Not the. Not about the Immortan, not those bits,” he hastily assured her. “Just. Just what it was like here. I was always curious.”

Capable seemed to think it over, resting her head in hands and looking into the distance. She sighed, looked down.

“Sure. Sure, okay. I can tell you some. Just. It was bad, a lot of it. I might have. Have to do it in pieces.”

“Of course,” Nux said eagerly. “Anything, I mean. I don't want you feeling bad, I just-”

“Yeah, I know,” Capable interrupted him, smiling. “I trust you.”

Slit rolled his eyes, but the others were too busy trusting each other and looking into each others eyes to notice. Capable took a few moments, to gather her thoughts or whatever. Slit closed his eyes. Better to picture the scene. Or to not be too transparent if he fell asleep.

“Well. I mean, it was like this,” Capable began. “We weren't really let out of the vault, you klnow. Not ever. It was. We knew each other pretty well, pretty quick. The Dag and Cheedo, they're the ones who were there the shortest. The Dag a little over a year, and Cheedo six months. I was there four years. It was. It wasn't easy. Toast and Angharad were there when I was brought in. Helped calm me when I cried for hours straight. I don't know how long they had been there, though. And there were others, they told me. They were. I don't know. They were gone when I got there. Joe's tastes were fleeting.”

She was quiet for a moment.

“But parts of it were all right. There was Miss Giddy. That old lady covered in writing tattoos. She taught us. Had convinced Joe somehow to let us have books about how things used to be. They weren't all the most useful books, not any more, but it was a way of pretending for a little while. I guess to you guys it was seem like a luxury.”

“No,” Nux was quick to assure her, but then. “Not now. Used to think so.”

“You didn't know. It's okay. But we had enough water, food, sometimes vegetables and things. We had a bit of luxury, I suppose. But we were pets. Breeders. It was bad. Really bad. Joe got- he got violent sometimes. He was so so angry when Angharad cut up her face. It was terrible. When Toast chopped her hair off. We had destroyed ourself. Were fucking up his property, as he put it.”

Slit heard rustling, felt the bed dip and move. He opened an eye briefly, seeing Capable had moved to lay down next to Nux, head pillowed on his arm. 

“We didn't have anything to do most of the time. There were only so many books. And the skylight, you can only see so much. So we talked. About our past. About where we came from, who had been left behind. Only Angharad had been found among the wretched in the Citadel. Everyone else came from other places, other people. And everyone had people they missed. I didn't. Not after Joe's attack finished. My only family was my older sister, but she. Joe didn't want her, so she died along with the rest-”

Her voice broke, and she let out a sob. Nux murmured to her, comforting nonsense. Slit wondered what having a family was like. Maybe like a core group of War Boys but with less violence? Something like that. He closed his eyes again, listening to Nux's soothing. It was so soothing, in fact, that he dozed off.

“So you really don't remember anything else?” Capable was saying, as Slit's mind slowly made its way back to consciousness.

“No. Always been a War Boy, I think. There was a before, I think, but I dunno what or where it was. Probably was one of the wretched. Most are. You ain't really meant to talk about before, ya know, to the others. And we don't. So you stop thinking 'bout it, stop rememberin'.”

“That sounds terrible. What about Slit?”

“'S the same for him. He's never said anythin' about it. Never came up.”

“You've know each other for fifteen years and it never came up?”

“Nah. Ain't the sort of thing ya talk about. Fights and engines and war and what it must be like in Valhalla. How great it is bein' a War Boy. That sorta thing's more like it.”

“No wonder you were all so deeply under Joe's control. He owned your past as well as everything else. That's. I'm so sorry Nux,” she said, and the mattress moved again. 

It was probably a comforting hug or something, Slit thought dismissively. And also somewhat enviously. 

“But you were close, though?”

“Yeah. Slit's my lancer. Told you that.”

“Possibly about thirty times, yes, but. That's, that's really close. Like friends, good friends, right? Or something more, I don't know. Were you that close with any others?”

“Nah. Ya have mates, you know. Real ones, I mean, not like these two guys. People you work with, talk with, take real fucked up drugs with. But they're not. They're not that close they're. I don't know what you'd call it. Not like you an' the other sisters or anythin'.”

“Are all the, you know, all the teams or partners or whatever, as close as you and Slit?”

The two of them seemed convinced that Slit was still asleep, and he did nothing to break this illusion. He wanted to hear what they had to say. Unless Nux said something too bad. Which he wouldn't. But he might. Never knew. 

“What d'ya mean?”

“As, uh, physically close?” Capable asked, and Slit could genuinely audibly hear her blush.

“Dunno. Some are. I mean, you can hear that lying awake in the bunks. See some tryin' to be all secret in stairs and things, but most don't care. Fuckin's allright, long as no one thinks it's more. Then ya might get beat up.”

“What, for having feelings?”

“Yeah? Ain't that normal?”

“No!”

“Oh.”

“I guess you didn't have it so much better on the other side of the heavy steel door either,” Capable said, sighing.

“You kidding? Ya seen the machines we work with, they're amazing! I got to repair the war rig once. Before, I mean. Not when Furiosa told me to. It was so chrome!”

“I bet,” Capable said, and Slit could hear her smile.

Nux started babbling about the repair job, and Slit stopped paying attention. He'd heard it at least ten times before, and to be honest he didn't care. That was the trick with Nux. He talked all the time, and sometimes, you learned after a while, you just had to stop listening, or he'd drive you mad. Sometimes you turned it into noise, and was just someone to talk to. Nux knew this. Was fine with it. Was aware Slit didn't care as deeply as him about the cars, but he couldn't stop himself talking. Wasn't the worst quality one could have. Could be fucking mediocre, like Morsov. Or dead, also like Morsov. What an asshole that guy had been. He kept bothering Nux, and then Slit had to beat him until both his arms broke. That had been fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish this chapter finished more neatly, but my eyes won't stay open any more.


	12. ??? part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the third chapter to take place entirely in a bed, but, thankfully, finally the way you're thinking.

When Slit woke up – because all he seemed to do in this room was sleep – Capable and Nux were making out next to him. At least that was what it looked like, though Capable's hair hid their faces. Capable was half on top of Nux, whose hands were running up and down her back, trying to touch all of her at the same time. 

“Glory- be- so- so chrome,” Nux was muttering incoherently.

Capable was pressing herself against him, hands grasping his face. Slit watched with interest. They seemed to be getting up to all sorts of things when he was asleep. He felt quite left out of all this. That was just plain rude. Still didn't stop him watching them. They were quite beautiful like that, really. All hands and mouths and wild red hair everywhere. He wondered how long it would take them to notice he was awake.

It took about seven minutes. He counted. Capable happened to look in his direction, and had apparently not been expecting to see him looking at them appreciatively. She sat up abruptly.

“Good mornin',” Slit said. “Looks like you're havin' one, anyway. Don't let me interrupt.”

“Why were you watching us?” Capable asked, somewhere between embarrassment and outrage.

“D'you want me to turn my back? That make ya feel better? 'S a small room”

“You could have said something,” Capable accused, pouting.

“Ya looked busy.”

Nux looked troubled.

“Anyway, ya didn't seem to have a problem starin' at me an' Nux the other day,” Slit said, grinning like a particularly self satisfied lizard.

“I di- no such thing how,” Capable stuttered, blushing.

“Why do ya have to be like this?” Nux asked quietly.

“Like what?” Slit and Capable asked in unison.

“Fightin' like. Arguing. I li- I mean. I like you both. Not in exactly the same way, but a lot the same way, and I...”

“An' what? Ya want us all to get along? Be happy and lovin' all three of us together?”

“I, uh, yeah? I mean, wouldn't that make, ya know, sense?” 

And that was how Slit, some time later, found himself between Capable's legs. 

She had been clear on not wanting them in her, not even Nux. Not like that. Not in any way that reminded her of the Immortan's attempts at breeding her. Something to do with feelings and bad things having happened to her, things that hurt. Which was fine with Slit. This was. Yeah. Wow. Capable tasted a lot better than Nux's dick, if he was completely honest with himself. No clay residue. That helps. Lot less choking sensation too. 

He licks into her, soft, moist flesh twitching around his tongue. Lets a rough thumb rub along the sensitive nub above, eliciting a high pitched moan. Tries not to let Nux watching in fascination distract him too much. Replacing his tongue in her with two fingers. Looking up, catching her nod. Face flushed, biting her lip, urging him on. Licking and sucking, curling his fingers inside her till her thighs squeezed him, hot skin everywhere. Slit was hard, tried to signal to Nux that the driver might do something about that, but he had scrambled forward, was kissing Capable. Nux's hands were on Capable's breasts, rubbing, squeezing, something. 

Capable nudged Slit with her leg. He rolled his eyes at them, flicked her clit with his tongue in reply. Licked circles around it, fingers still moving in her. She pressed against them harder, now. Right leg over his shoulder, trying to press him closer. He obliged, fingers working into her faster, harder, tongue over her nub until- she arched her back, pulsing around his fingers. Grabbed at Nux's arms, hard, her entire body shaking with aftershocks. He presses a kiss to her, ducks under her leg, crawls back up onto the bed. 

“Nux,” he growls sharply, tugging him away from Capable. 

Nux flips onto his back readily, pulling Slit down into a messy kiss, tasting Capable on him. Slit kisses back violently, biting at Nux's scarred lips, licking into his mouth. He reaches down, slides a finger still slick and wet, into Nux. Nux moans into Slit's mouth, pressing back against it. Slit adds a finger, watches Nux squirming until he gets used to it, until he tries moving his hips against it. Slit kisses down Nux's neck, licks and nips and full on bites, not quite drawing blood. Nux moans and arches into him, hands clawing uselessly at Slit's chest, trying to hurry him along. Slit gives in, strokes himself, then looks into Nux's eyes as he enters him, a bit too quickly, a bit drier than might be ideal. Irrelevant when he can see Nux's eyes roll back into his head at the feeling. Feel the nails digging into his shoulders and the hot tight flesh clenching around him. Slit's eyes flicker closed for a moment.

He starts slow, shallow, making Nux desperate with light thrusts. His hands are on Nux's hips, holding him in place, keeping him from moving back. Nux whines in desperation, pleading.

“Slit, come on, come on, I ne- I need-”

And Slit is all feral grin and control, at least he thinks he is until Nux flips him over. And oh, there is something about the taller man on top of him, around him, pressing him down into the mattress. Moving on top of him, riding him, eyes closed and hands digging into Slit's shoulders. Nux's eyes are closed, and looks about as close as Slit feels. It has been so long, now, and Slit's hand is on Nux's dick, punping. He is dimly aware of something red in the corner of his eyes, Capable watching them, touching herself again. But then Nux is clenching around him, riding out his orgasm as Slit nears his. He grabs onto Nux's hips, thrusting up into him three, four times, and that's it. His vision whites out for a moment, and there's a ringing in his ears, and Nux is moving off him.

 

“Where did you learn how to do that,” Capable asks Slit a little while later.

They're all cleaned up, lying intertwined on the bed, warm and satisfied and closer. Capable's head is resting on Slit's shoulder, and Nux on hers again, his long limbs draped over them both. It looks uncomfortable, but Slit thinks maybe he just needs to be as close to them both as humanly possible.

“Was a War Boy here, maybe fifteen hundred days ago. Bit more like you down there than like us. Taught me that and some other things, trading it for drugs. Fun couple weeks till he was assigned away somewhere else. Or maybe gone to Valhalla. Don't know.”

“When was this?” Nux asked, offended.

“'N the hundred days or so ya wouldn't talk to me 'round that time.”

“Ah, fair that,” Nux admitted, relaxing.

“Whatever you it was,” Capable said, pressing a kiss to his mangled cheek, “I'm very grateful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was awkward and horrible to write and it might be awkward and horrible to read and it's very short but i fuckngi tried. Had to take an hour break to watch half of Fury Road again in the middle. It still took me like four hours. And I think maybe the tense changes three times, idk, sorry. Sorry. Immediacy and all that. Back to your regularly scheduled fluff/angst/introspection combo tomorrow. I'm going to go hide my face in my hands forever.


	13. Peace Time Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dramatic Developments and some Less Dramatic Developments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow c

The Dag had finally declared them healthy enough to go back to work after the previous day, confirming all Slit's suspicions. He couldn't even find it in himself to be angry, which was rare. But for the first time since the Fall of the Immortan, he felt all right. Mostly. He had more burn scars than he used to, and they restricted his mobility some, but other than that he felt almost not like shit. Was it “healthy” Capable had called it? The thing they were all supposed to become? Free from lumps and no longer half lives? Didn't matter much to Slit. Not for his own sake, anyhow. Nux on the other hand. The lanky fucker was getting cured if it was the last thing Slit did.

Nux had become a bit of a hero in the Citadel. Pups all looked up to him, badgering him until he told them of how he'd seen the Immortan was maybe not an almighty god, how it might be better without him. And of course how he'd heroically fought off the bad guys, Slit included. The heroic final sacrifice as he almost rode to Valhalla to stop the war party. If Slit was there, Nux would tell the pups that Slit was the worst of all the bad guys, and if they did something they weren't supposed to, he'd carve off their faces while they slept. Capable tried to stop this, but Slit thought it was one of the nicest things Nux had ever done for him.

Slit had feared he would be a failure, slinking back after his new masters on his return to the Citadel. But apparently, being found with Nux, being know to be his lancer, had helped. Everyone knew who he was, now, if not exactly what his role in the Rise of the New Citadel had been. There were many and varying tales of what had happened amongst those who had stayed behind. What everyone seemed to know was that he was tight with the new bosses, and that he was fucking terrifying to look at. To be honest, that was all Slit could ask.

He was on his way to the armoury, at last. It was the best part of his job, fiddling about with weapons. Trying to make deadlier versions of existing ones, trying to think up new ways to blow up enemies. A good amount of his scars had been obtained in the pursuit of this. Maybe even most of them. Not that he would admit that to anyone but Nux. And Capable, he supposed, seeing as Nux seemed to be telling her all about both of them. Which was fine. Probably fine. It was only-

“What was that? Is someone coming?” a voice said, from somewhere further down the corridor Slit was walking down.

“Well I was hoping you were,” someone else answered.

Female voices. Two of the Wives, Slit thought. The Dag and Toast? It wasn't Capable, and it seemed like a conversation Cheedo would be too young for. He slowed down, trying to walk soundlessly.

“No, I heard someone outside!”

“What, ya ashamed of me now?”

“Just because I have some basic modesty...”

“Boring.”

The voices were growing louder, in frustration. Also, possibly, because he was getting close. Slit leaned around a corner to see a doorway someone had hung a filthy sheet over to cover. He could see people moving behind it.

“Look, let's just find somewhere else, okay? Place with a door, maybe?”

“You take all the fun out of it.”  
The shapes appeared to be moving towards the curtain, and Slit hurriedly posed nonchalantly against the wall oppsite.

“Hello ladies,” he said with a grin as the curtain revealed The Dag and Toast.

As predicted. The Dag looked surprised, then grinned. Toast gave a small squeak of surprise before looking at him angrily. If anything, this made him grin even wider, which, given the state of his face, was saying something.

“How long have you been here?” Toast demanded, trying to cover her blushing with anger.

Slit shrugged, still grinning.

“Long enough.”

“Are you going to tell anyone?”

“Why, 's it a secret? Ashamed, are ya?”

Toast buried her face in her hands, groaning. Slit caught The Dag's eye and she looked as genuinely gleeful as he felt. One could almost feel sorry for Toast. Almost. But Slit suspected the two Wives had been having a lot of fun before they were interrupted.

“Please don't tell anyone,” Toast said quietly, face still hidden in her hands.

“Okay,” Slit said.

He was very definitely going to tell a lot of people. The Dag put a comforting hand around Toast's shoulder and lead her down the corridor and back towards the dome.

When he got to the armoury, Slit looked around for someone to immediately tell. There were a few other War Boys there, but no one who would properly appreciate the news. A group of pups were playing with some safe lances in a corner. Safe in the sense that they were not explosive. They were still dangerous. Slit debated telling them off, but figured they would learn better from their own mistakes. They would also not appreciate the news. Damn. Slit decided he would have to wait till he found someone worthy of the hilarious news. 

A couple hours later Slit was still in the armoury. He was slumped against the wall, a pile of lances in his lap. He had managed to do absolutely nothing useful whatsoever. The air, thick with fumes that were probably not what Capable would call healthy, was fogging up his head. He sighed heavily. The air rushing through the small holes where his cheeks hadn't grown back together properly tickled. The only idea he had had that day had turned out to be both impossible and also not actually useful in battle in any way at all. 

The work was a bit harder, he was finding, without the prospect of Valhalla. Making weapons to blow himself and others up was still the thing he knew he wanted to devote himself to, but without any actual war to look forward his motivation was lacking. He wondered idly whether he could convince some of the other War Boys to lead an attack. Maybe on the Bullet Farm or Gastown or something, to make whoever were in charge there now the old triumvirate was dead declare proper war. Something to pass the time. Imperator Furiosa would probably really actually murder him for that. His futile fantasies were interrupted when someone shouted his name.

“Slit! Slit, hey! Found ya!” Nux was yelling, hurrying towards him.

Nux crashed down to the hard floor next to Slit gracelessly. His eyes were wide and bright with excitement, and he was shaking Slit's shoulder. Slit grabbed Nux's head, drew him into the gentle headbutt that was the only even remotely acceptable public display of non-sexual affection. Held him there a moment to calm him down. It worked, but only a little.

“Ya doin' anything important?” Nux asked, eyeing the nearly untouched lances.

“Thinkin' bout invadin' Gastown. Startin' a decent war for once.”

“Don't think Furiosa or the others would like that,” Nux said, frowning.

“Shoulda thought of that before they patched me back together, then,” Slit replied irritably.

Nux was everything, but not always observant.

“Anyway, I've got something I gotta show ya! It's so chrome, you're gonna love it!”

“'S it have to be now?”

“Why? You're just sittin' on yer ass. Come on!”

Nux got to his feet, hauling Slit after him. The lances tumbled to the ground. Slit let himself be dragged away, grumbling about wasting Citadel time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, clearly porn was the way to comments. Niice.   
> Can something be a filler chapter even if the fic is mostly a multichapter filler. Relevant questions.  
> I'm sorry this is a bit shorter but Book 3 of Dreamfall: Chapters just downloaded and I only have about 9 hours more access to a computer that can play video games without going to Valhalla.


	14. Not terribly triumphant return of hero previously thought fallen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As pointed out before, Nux has a plan.

Nux hauled Slit through a series of stone corridors, all dark and cool. There were few people about, as most were still working, but that sort of thing was a bit less strict now. Probably would continue to be like that until someone figured out what everyone was supposed to be doing. Mostly the War Boys had defaulted back to whatever they used to do before the Fall and Rise of the Citadel. Imperator Furiosa was not entirely happy with that, Slit had gathered, but she had yet to formulate an alternative solution.

“What are ya takin' me to see anyway?” Slit growled at Nux.

The driver was dragging him by his arm, and was walking very fast for someone who'd recently had their leg put back together. Slit figured maybe he had gotten some of the good stuff left in the Organic's lab. There was an old woman there now, who had spent her time healing the Wretched. She appeared to know what she was doing, and she was a lot less shady than the Organic had been, but it was still widely known she'd started up a drug trade.

“Wait an' see. Not as fun if I tell ya!”

“'S it gonna be much farther, then?” Slit asked, trying uselessly to tug his arm back. 

“Nah, not far now,” Nux promised, making no move to release Slit's wrist.

They rounded a corner, entering the repair bay. Slit had not been aware of this route before. It led directly into the roar of sound and intense heat and just for a second he felt overwhelmed by it all. It had been a while since last it was this busy.

There were wrecked cars everywhere. Bit of them lay strewn around, seemingly at random. More probably it was the demented system of one of the black thumbs. It made little sense to Slit. All the wrecks seemed to be in use, too, at least one mechanic on each, fixing something or other, stripping cars down and salvaging the useful bits. Piecing them back together to eventually be an almost new fleet of vehicles built on the bones of the old. 

“They went out again to haul back all the wrecks from the canyon,” Nux explained.

“Yeah, I can- I can see that,” Slit nodded.  
He could see one War Boy a few cars over looking particularly mournful as he stroked one of the battered speakers that had been on the Doof Wagon. Nux followed his gaze.

“I miss that crazy fuck,” he mumbled.

“Yeah,” Slit said. “Ain't the same. But what were ya so eager to show off?”

Nux perked right back up. He dragged Slit through a maze of cars, all towering over each other. Sparks flew everywhere, and it was just Nux and Slit's new found status that let them pass through it all relatively unhindered. Nux came to a halt in front of a pile of parts, gesturing grandly. Slit looked at it in confusion for a while, until he saw, right at the bottom, that dumb bobbing birdskull Nux had kept on the dashboard. Oh.

“You found our car?” Slit asked, wide eyed with some emotion he couldn't quite identify.

“Yeah! Well, not me. A salvage crew. I bribed 'em with some extra aqua cola rations to get them to drive all the way out there to see if they could find anything of it. Ain't much, but I'm gonna rebuild her, Slit,” Nux promised.

A wide range of possible responses to this ran through Slit's head in the half second before he shoved Nux against the nearest car and kissed him fiercely. That felt right. He pinned Nux's wrists against the hot metal of the car, pressed against him as closely as he could.

“Ye're the best fuckin' driver anyone could ask for,” he whispered into Nux's ear, and then “Don't ya dare tell anyone I said it, though.”

“I- ah! I won't,” Nux promised breathlessly, distracted by the kisses and bites Slit was pressing down his throat.

“Ya gonna make her even more chrome than she used to be?” 

“Gonna make her shinier than Valhalla itself- oh, oh glory be, please keep doin' that!”

“Mm, 'm gonna. But not here.”

Slit pressed a last, harsh kiss to Nux's swollen, scarred up lips before releasing his wrists. Nux pouted. 

“I know ye're in love with the car, but she's just a pile of parts now. She ain't gonna miss ya yet.”

“Hey, that's not-”

“Remember that time ya talked in yer sleep about wanting to fuck her? 'Cause I do,” Slit smirked.

He could almost see Nux blush behind the clay. It had been at least six hundred days ago, but Slit still found it hilarious, and Nux was still incredibly embarrassed, and so Slit brought it up as often as he could. Head in the sky both metaphorically and literally, someone had the keep him grounded.

“That happened once, Slit, once!”

“Sure,” Slit said, nudging him. 

Nux scowled, but didn't take much persuading to head back to the room they still shared with Capable. She had spent some time working to convince the boys not to go back to their bunk as soon as they were allowed to. She hadn't understood, not really. The bunks weren't exactly safe spaces, but they were as close as had been possible in the Citadel before. Hard and uncomfortable, sure, but the only personal space you got. Long as you shared it with your partner fine, anyway. The Boys had, however, been swayed at last, by the softness of the bed, the privacy, and the sharing it with her.

Slit had been surprised at Capable's genuinely wanting him there too. She didn't dislike him as she had in the start, sure, but he had thought she mostly went along with it because Nux wanted it. That had been how he saw it, at first. It was clear they both loved Nux, and that Nux loved them both back, but their relation to each other was less clear. There was like, now. Like and attraction. And maybe that and Nux would be enough to make it work out more long term? They would find out eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man I was so close to chickening out and going to sleep instead of writing but here is a very short chapter because I hate both myself and sleep and love War Boys more than life.  
> Nux definitely still wants to fuck the car.


	15. Rooftop Rambling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both talks and thoughts are had, by as many as several people.

The room the three of them now shared was less bare, now. Capable had insisted there be more things there. Slit didn't see the need. There was a small stack of books there, next to the bed. An odd assortment of literature from before the world was destroyed. Some of the books were instructive, Capable said. Some were about medicine and things that were useful. Others were less helpful, like the one about how eating bread and meat would kill you. That seemed illogical to Slit. Bread and meat were hard to come by, and more importantly, kind of delicious. At least compared to the dull gruel the War Boys were fed.

Now that Gastown and the Bullet Farm were, Slit assumed, under new management, the trade deals were uncertain. Probably that was a bad thing, but in the short term it meant the produce went to the people of the Citadel. It meant a lot more green for their food. Capable thought that was Healthy and Good. Slit just thought it tasted a lot better. The Dag had used the seeds she had gotten from one of the Vuvalini, planted them up on the green roof of the Citadel, and there was a lot more variety. Or at least there would be, she had excitedly told them, when it all grew. 

The room also had more useless things now. Capable had attempted to explain the concept of décor to the War Boys. They had suggested spray painting the room chrome, but apparently that was not what she had meant. There was a plant there now. It stood positioned awkwardly in the middle of the room to catch the sunlight from the window, and Slit kept tripping over it. It seemed wasteful, keeping and watering the thing, but Capable had assured him that it was the kind of plant that would turn into something you could eat. She wasn't sure what, The Dag had just given her a small, green clipping that frankly could be anything. But probably something useful.

Rictus had been important enough that he had proper electricity in his room, and so there was also a lamp. Well, not so much a lamp as a bulb dangling from the ceiling, around which Nux in a fit of inspiration had attempted to create a shade. Predictably the thing was made of scrap metal, and if anything made the lamp far less efficient, but none of them had removed it. There were blankets, as well. Mostly they were full of holes and the same dirty grey as anything else in the Citadel, but to Slit it seemed luxurious and a bit wasteful. Comfortable, though.

On the whole, much as he might be suspicious of it, life in the Citadel was a lot better. Fewer people ended up in the Organic's lab after fights now, and when they did it was usually nothing more than a broken nose or bad cut. It also helped, he supposed, that the old lady now in charge wasn't a sadistic bastard who enjoyed cutting War Boys open to look at their insides. A bit shady she might be, but that only served to make them respect her. And the fighting was a lot less desperate these days, anyway. With the hopes of being cured and less encouraging of their suicidal tendencies, the War Boys weren't exactly calm, but they were at least only wounding each other superficially. 

There were also quite a bit fewer of them now. Many had died in the fight. Some had made it back, like Nux and Slit. But on the whole there was a lot more space. It was never quiet, but the cacophony was softer, now. There was more room in the bunks, although most of them had been raided of anything personal or even remotely useful. The ones whose occupants weren't coming back, at least. 

To be honest, Slit didn't miss it as much as he had thought he would. It wasn't the same now. Too many people missing. Not people he'd miss, particularly, not many of them. But the atmosphere was too different now. And anyhow, Nux was with him, and that was the important thing. No going to Valhalla alone, they'd promised each other that thousands of days ago. At one point it had, for Slit, anyway, stopped being about going to Valhalla together as much as it was about not being left behind in this life. And maybe Nux felt the same way. He wasn't sure. Not that there were many opportunities to die historic lately anyway, unless you pissed Furiosa off too badly.

“Hey,” he said, nudging the subject of his thoughts. “What ya think happens when we die? If Valhalla ain't there?”

Nux shrugged. 

“Maybe nothing?”

They were sitting on the roof of the Citadel, outside the gardens. It was late afternoon, but the sun was still scorching. They had huddled in the shade of a rocky outcropping, and were passing back and forth a bottle of some dodgy spirit. Slit had gotten it as payment for telling a group of War Boys about the Wives in greater detail. He had almost exclusively lied to them. After all, he respected the Wives. Life in the New Citadel was pretty good.

“Maybe,” Slit agreed, taking a swig from the bottle. 

Whatever shit was in it made his scars burn. It tasted a bit like guzzoline, but there wasn't a lot of available choices. Sure, there were War Boys trying to brew stuff on their own, but it was usually disastrous and sometimes even a health hazard.

“Bit of a let down,” Nux said thoughtfully. “I mean, I guess not tryin' to die so much is okay. Things are nice and all. But I was looking forward to eternal highways without these guys,” he continued, indicating the lumps on his neck. 

“Yeah,” Slit agreed. “I miss war. Ain't been that long. But 'm a lancer. 'S what I do, it's not right, this not leaving the Citadel much. Can't even join the patrols because the Imperator don't want us leavin'.”

“Guess it makes sense to her? Like she seems to think we're important an' their only real connection to the War Boys and things. Keep us safe, kinda thing”

Slit snorted.

“S not like we're gonna ride straight to Valhalla. Ain't that shit.”

“Capable wouldn't like it either, I bet,” Nux added, looking down.

“Nah. But I know ya. Fixing cars is shine, sure, but ya miss drivin'. Like I miss Lancing. Capable's so soft she'd want ya doing what makes ya happy.”

“Us.”

“Huh?”

“She'd want us doin' what makes us happy.”

“Sure,” Slit said, not wanting to argue.

Nux had other ideas. He turned to look Slit straight in the eye, all serious now. Slit wanted to kiss him, but suspected it was not the right moment. Nux grabbed his arm, buzzed enough to be a bit unsteady.

“She cars 'bout ya, Slit. I know ya only think she likes ya because I do.”

Nux sounded very serious, like he felt very strongly about this. And he might be right. He might. But Slit was not entirely convinced. Apparently Nux could tell.

“Don't ya like her, that it? She not chrome enough?”

“Course she is,” Slit reassured him, rolling his eyes. “But she. She's new. Ain't like with you. Won't be. And that's fine.”

Nux seemed conflicted. His eyes moved back and forth, seeing right through Slit, looking for words. Slit thought this might be the moment to distract Nux with a kiss. He pulled him down, smashing their mouths together. Apparently he had had a tiny bit much of the stuff in the bottle too. It was a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss, but that was fine. They parted for breath, foreheads resting against each other, Slit's hand cradling the back of Nux's head. 

“'S like this,” Slit began to explain, and was promptly interrupted.

“Hiya there Boys,” The Dag said, wandering up to them, and empty watering can dangling limply from her wrist.

She looked quite different these days. She spent almost all her time in the gardens on the roof, and her skin had lost the ethereal pallor. Her belly was growing, too. Not too noticable yet, unless you knew. But she looked good. Looked better. All the Wives did. Everyone did.

“What're ya doing there?” she asked innocently, sitting down next to Slit.

“Discussing war tactics,” Nux replied in what was possibly the least convincing manner yet discovered.

“Plannin' to seduce the enemy, are ya?”

“Worked on him,” Slit pointed out, nodding at Nux, who only protested mildly.

“Fair enough. Hey, give me some of that,” She said, grabbing at the bottle.

Slit handed it over. The Dag drank deeply from it, then coughed.

“What is that, poison?”

“Best kind.”

“Ugh.”

“How's Toast?”

“Oh, fine. Bit surprised you haven't told everyone.”

“Told everyone what?” Nux demanded.

“Doubts my word? 'M insulted.”

“She doesn't trust ya. Bit afraid of the War Boys, I think. She would never admit to it.”

“Told everyone what?” Nux whined.

“Don't think she's got much to worry 'bout. They're pretty scared of her.”

“Probably wise,” The Dag agreed. 

“What is going on?” Nux asked again, tugging at Slit's arm.

Slit looked briefly at The Dag, who nodded cheerfully.

“Walked in on Toast an' The Dag here, fucking.”

Nux looked perplexed. The Dag giggled at his expression.

“Oh.”

“What, got a problem with that?” 

“Nah, 's just. You seem so… different?”

“And you an' smiley face here an' Capable are all real similar, are ya?”

“Guess not,” Nux admitted.

“Toast and I get on fine. Least when she stop's worrying 'bout people noticing.”

“Might want people to notice,” Nux said, looking thoughtful. “Tells all the War Boys you're, ya know, not available.”

“'Sposed to be better than that now,” The Dag pointed out, hint of bitterness in her voice.

“I know. Don't mean it is. Not all the War Boys are young and easy to teach new ways.”

“Furiosa would kill them.”

“Be a bit late then.”

“True.”

Slit leaned back against the warm rock, listening to them. It was warm and comfortable and he didn't have anything needed doing. The alcohol had dulled the buzzing in his veins, the longing for battle, to a faint hum. Everything was all right. It was a very foreign feeling to him. Not that he pitied himself, or anything. But there was usually something wrong. Usually the something was Nux's fault. And Slit had to go fix whatever Nux had done. Before, that had usually involved beating up whatever War Boy Nux accidentally offended. Now, though, everyone kept telling him not to solve arguments with violence, and that was a lot harder. Slit wasn't quite as eloquent as his wrist, nor as diplomatic as the extendable knife in his arm brace.

Nux laid down, put his head in Slit's lap. The Dag had wandered back to her garden. Slit traced the little scars that covered Nux's lips with the tips of his fingers, and the driver's eyes fluttered close. The sun was sinking now, and the temperature was at the perfect point. It'd get cooler soon, and they'd have to go back in, but right now, right now was pretty damn okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How have I written 48 pages of fic in less than two weeks what's wrong with me. This is what vacation/unemployment/being outside the city does to me, apparently.


	16. Ride Forever Shiny & Chrome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting out of the citadel

“But why do you want to go out so badly?” 

“'S what we do.”

“Does it have to be?”

“Yeah.”

They were, the three of them, discussing whether it would be a good idea for Slit and Nux to join the patrols sometimes. So far, as Nux had argued, nothing bad had happened to the people who went out. Once they saw some buzzard bikes, shot at them, and they fled. That had been the most dramatic thing to happen out in the desert, apparently. It might be, Slit thought, that Capable felt that they might do something to make something more dramatic happen. Something stupid. Which was ridiculous, Slit never did anything stupid. Nux might, though. 

“'S not like we're going to start a war,” Slit argued. “We just. It's hard, bein' stuck here. Used to going out, doing war. Used to driving.”

“Are you sure it's just that?” Capable asked suspiciously.

“Nah,” Nux admitted. “Miss the violence too. It's been so much our lives. Fighting and things. But we won't. We'll drive. Look for enemies. Slit'll blow 'em up if we find any. Mostly we'll drive. 'S what I miss most.”

“Not goin' out there's like bein' trapped,” Slit elaborated. “Feels like. Not being able to do what ya need to do.”

Capable looked down, unsure. Nux put a hand on her shoulder. 

“I'm worried,” she told them.

“I know, but we're real shine at what we do, gonna be fine!”

“I doubt you, it's just...”

“I know.”

“Last time you said were gonna be fine you flipped a war rig into a cliff, Nux.”

This was a fair point. Even Slit and Nux could see that. If Slit had not few minutes before that happened more or less been flung to a fiery death himself, he would likely have been pretty upset about it too. 

“Didn't have a choice,” Nux said quietly.

Capable nodded, not agreeing, but accepting his view. They had had that particular disagreement before. 

“Nothing's gonna happen,” Slit tried to reassure her. “I'll look after the idiot.”

Nux pouted, and Capable smiled, and Slit felt like maybe they were winning.

“Still gotta ask the Imperator?” 

“Yeah, I think so. Furiosa wants to know what's going on,” Capable said.

“She doesn't trust me.”

It was a statement, rather than a question, and both Nux and Capable looked a bit apologetic. Which was weird. After all they were probably the only two who did trust him. 

“Trusts Nux, yeah? Should let me out.”

“Maybe,” Capable said, shrugging.

It turned out that the Imperator didn't mind. She didn't trust him, and said as much. But she also said the worst that could happen was that some buzzards kicked the dust a bit farther away than necessary. And she did trust Nux. She set them up with the morning patrol the next day. Which was fine. Dull, but fine. No one attacked that early in the morning. Still, Nux and Slit were happy to be going out there.

Their car wasn't ready yet. It still lacked some essential bits. Like an engine. Also wheels. But Nux had eventually listened to Slit, gotten some of the other War Boys to help him put it together. He wanted it to be a masterpiece because of course he did. Nothing else was good enough for their little team. And the old car had been a work of fucking art, Slit had to admit that. But for now, for the morning patrol, they had to use a less striking vehicle. It was in good enough shape, but a bit dented, and lacked enough lance storage, in Slit's opinion. It wasn't particularly sleek or stylish, but then there would probably not be a lot of enemies to dazzle and terrify.

They woke up before the sun the next morning. Slit was half awake, grumpy. Nux was provokingly energetic. 

“C'mon, Slit. We're gonna go out, it's gonna be so chrome!”

Slit grumbled, but extracted himself from the sheets and pulled on his pants and boots. He rubbed his eyes, further smudging his war paint. Probably wouldn't be anyone around to see it. Got to his feet and nearly kicked over that goddamn plant. Nux hadn't turned on the light, and he could hardly see anything. Capable got out of bed, sheet over her shoulders. She fumbled her way over to kiss Nux, long and deep. Then she came over Slit, and pulled him down into a kiss too. It took him by surprise, but he responded. Her lips were a lot softer than Nux's. 

“Be safe, boys,” Capable told them, voice hoarse with sleep. 

They promised her they would, and left her to get back to sleep. Nux's excitement was pretty infectious, and by the time they were actually approaching the car he was pumped. He felt almost as he did before their first ride together, hundreds and hundreds of days ago. New car, new mission. It was starting to get lighter outside, the sun cautiously approaching the horizon. It was cold outside, but that would soon change. Slit hauled himself on the back of the car while Nux got in. The lances were pitifully few, as expected. Otherwise it was fine. As the engine purred he closed his eyes. This was what had been missing. He thumped on the roof, urging Nux on. 

They roared out into the desert. The freezing wind stung his exposed skin. His fingers were numb, holding onto the cold metal, and his muscles were stiff with disuse. The car jerked back and forth, hitting rocks and jumping shallow dunes. He bared his teeth at the skies, challenging them. 

The stars slowly faded as they left the Citadel behind, skies turning pink. The air warmed up. Slit felt good. They had rounded some rock formations, and were getting closer to where hostile visitors might be lurking. Slit had lances ready to, felt prepared. Hoped, really hoped that there would be someone there. Some enemy they might send to a fiery hel. That would be chrome. He scanned the rocks around for bikes or tell-tale spikes, but saw nothing suspicious. 

They drove on, now out on a stretch on open road. Nux sped up, faster than they needed to, but not fast enough. Slit's eyes stung and watered, but he banged on the roof, urging Nux ever faster. The driver complied and Slit hadn't felt this alive in a long time. The sun was up, now, and the air was heating up, and Slit felt good. Ready to fight, ready to blow something up. He considered throwing a lance at some rocks, just to see the fire, but that would probably be considered a waste of resources. In his minds eye, everything was on fire, glorious.

Nux slowed down a little while later, and they came to a halt in the shade of some rocks. Slit opened the roof, leaned down.

“Glad we talked 'em into it yet?”

“Can't believe how shine it is, even a car like this,” Nux agreed, twisting to look up at him, eyes bright.

“Yeah. Missed it.”

“Think we can get two patrols a day?” Nux asked hopefully.

Slit grinned. They could try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory apology for short chapter, but it was very legitimate Fury Road business that kept me from writing more.


	17. Ride Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slit is less of an idiot than previously.

Slit slithered down into the car through the open roof. It was a tight fit, awkward, and he landed half in Nux's lap. But that was fine. It had kind of been his destination anyway. 

“Hey,” he said.

“Yer paint's shit,” Nux told him.

“Your face is shit.”

“You love it.”

“Must have shit taste,” Slit growled, and kissed Nux's dumb fucking face to prove it.

He kissed Nux's nose, grimacing at the taste of the black grease. Nux laughed. He kissed along the scars on Nux's cheekbones. He had carved those for him, ages ago. Not, as he'd told Nux at the time, because it would make his face look like a badass skull, but because he liked the shape of Nux's cheekbones. But that hadn't seemed like a good reason for carving his mate's face up at the time. Slit debated kissing Nux's eyelids to keep him from looking so goddamn amused, but the black grease was heavier there. Not worth it. He settled for scarred lips instead. The texture of it was nice, rough against his lips. He pushed his tongue into Nux's mouth, and it was hot and wet and- 

Nux pushed him back.

“What? Can't get it up without Capable around now?”

“No, shit head, turn around, ye're just layin' there like a fuckin' lizard.”

Slit acknowledged his point, managing with some difficulty to move so that he was straddling Nux, his head bowed to avoid the ceiling. The steering wheel was digging into his back and not for the first time he wondered why the drivers all felt it was necessary to have so many fucking bolts and sharp bits sticking out of his. Mess up his spine scars if he weren't careful. At least he was looking down on Nux for once. 

“Better?”

“Better.”

Nux's hands were all up and down his back, tracing scars and drawing mindless designs in the smooth skin in-between. Slit pulled Nux's head down, pressing his lips to the top of his driver's skull, just because he could. Nux took the opportunity to press tiny kisses to Slit's throat. Which was his weakness. This was incredibly unfair because Slit was meant to be the one in control, but there were teeth of the sensitive skin there and fuck. He moaned, and Nux, the little fucker, just kept it up. Slit tried to surreptitiously grind down against Nux's groin. Nux somehow noticed, grabbing onto Slit's hips to keep him still. 

“Really wanna do this here?”

Slit looked around. Here seemed like a perfectly good place to do this. It was isolated. Weather was nice, as if that mattered. Car was a bit on the small side, but that just made it cozy.

“...Yeah?”

“We're s'posed to be on patrol.”

“We are. Makin' sure the Citadel is safe. Sparin' everyone from the sight of your naked ass.”

Nux punched his arm, but without any real malice.

“Don't you wanna do a good job? First patrol in the new Citadel?”

“Nah. Wanna either fight or fuck, and no buzzards've showed so far.”

“So ya wanna fight me?”

“Piss off.”

They bickered like that for a while more, but eventually Slit yielded. He crawled out of the open roof again, kneeing Nux in the face on the way. The offended party slapped half heartedly at his leg. Despite being parked in the shade, the metal of the car had somehow gotten even hotter. Desert magic. But Nux started the car again, and they roared on, out of the collection of rocky desert bits.

Slit closed his eyes against the wind for a moment, letting it cool him down. It whistled in through cracks in his facial scars. However annoyed he might be at Nux he had to admit this felt pretty great too. He scanned the horizon as they drover, but couldn't spot anything out of the ordinary. Nothing moved in the Wasteland except them. He grabbed some binoculars that hung perilously from a strap wound round one of the explosive lances. Nothing but sand and rock and more sand, as far as the technologically assisted eye could see.

Nux drove them in a wide ring around the Citadel, far enough out that Slit couldn't see it most of the time. They found nothing, except the remains of a bike so wrecked that it would be impossible to salvage anything from it. It was midday when they returned. Apparently the patrols were supposed to take an hour, they were told. Well. Beginners mistake and all. They hadn't fucked up quite so badly as the first time they ever went out. Not in their own car, but the first time they went out as a team, to test how they worked together. That was where Slit had gotten his stomach sliced open. Not a lot of fun. Some of the older War Boys had set up a trap for them, hidden wires and sharp slicing metal and well. 

Nux had banged his head up a bit, but nothing rest couldn't fix, while Slit had been stuck in the Organic's lab for ages. In Nux's defence he had stayed with his lancer as much as he could, but there had been more pressing work most of the time. Slit had learned to loathe the Organic, then. And the war pups who did the man's bidding freaked him out a bit. Not their fault, but the Organic was not a healthy mentor. Slit strongly suspected him of having poked around in his guts a lot more than was needed. He still got strange stinging pains sometimes. At least it was a good scar, metal staples holding him together and all. Nux had told him he really needed to stop slicing himself up too badly to heal on his own, and to be honest, Slit had to agree. Not worth the pain.

Furiosa gave them a look when she met them on their way to their respective work places. The look said she had expected them to be better than this. Slit didn't care, and he was pretty sure Nux knew it was Slit's fault, so he probably didn't either. That was fine, then. Might be an idea to wait a little bit before asking for more patrols, though.

Slit did better that day. He was training some of the older pups again, trying to teach them how to throw a lance properly. They were quite shit at it. All of them were thin and awkwardly proportioned, and some of them lacked any upper body strength whatsoever. He wondered how they had survived this long in the Citadel like that. Maybe they'd been on green duty all their time. They were pretty useless. But one or two of them managed to hit their target after a couple hours. Slit figured that was probably the best he was getting out of them, and sent them away.

He made his way up to the roof again. Partly to avoid any work he didn't feel like doing, partly because he was starting to like it up there. Ridiculous amounts of green and all. When he walked out into the sunshine there, he saw Capable and The Dag talking. He nodded at them, and went over to the edge. He liked the feeling of being able to see the whole world. Felt in control, somehow. The warm sands studded with red rocks, and the cliffs in the distance. Sometimes he wondered whether the lookouts stationed on the cliffs had the better job. Of course, they rarely got to go out into the desert. Probably not, he thought. 

“Hey,” a voice said, and Capable sat down next to him.

He nodded at her.

“Heard Furiosa wasn't that pleased with your patrolling?”

“Spent too long out there, she said. Were just being thorough.”

“I bet,” Capable grinned.

Slit glared at her, insulted. But not very harshly. To be fair, she was right.

“Keep Nux safe for me?”

“Very.”

“Keep yourself safe for me?”

There was something in that statement. Something in Capable's eyes as she said it. Something kind, something that almost made him understand how she had lured Nux away from everything they'd believed in. He wasn't sure how to feel about it, and so he kissed her instead. Way to avoid feeling things, he thought sarcastically to himself while his heart did something weird and fluttery and his hands tangled in Capable's hair. It shone like copper wiring and blood, glorious. Capable's hands were on his neck, on the back of his head, pulling him closer. 

They pulled back after a few moments, both breathless.

“Really am getting too used to the taste of clay,” Capable said, half smiling. “Do you really need to put it on your mouth as well?”

“Looks weird if not,” he told her. 

She nodded. Made sense. She studied his face. He felt oddly self-conscious, even painted as he was. Badly painted and too long ago, but still. The clay uniform was armour. Clearly his had cracks.

“There a reason your black bits are the same as Furiosa's?” Capable asked, still only inches from his face.

Slit looked away, frowning.

“If you tell anyone, you tell her? I will slit your throat. Right?”

Capable looked slightly taken aback by his threat, but nodded. Slit took a deep breath.

“When Nux and I were pups there was this big fight. Not in the pits or anythin'. Don't remember where. Maybe the repair bay? Remember there was cars there, all shining. Was some disagreement between some. Too young to understand. But it broke out into fighting, real vicious. Don't think more than one War Boy died, but it was bad. Least twenty people, punching, stabbing and kicking. Blood everywhere. And a lot of big guys in that fight too, but the person who came out on top? Furiosa. She had the paint on, was covered in dirt, someone else's blood all over her. Good bit of hers too, probably. And it was the chromest thing I'd ever seen. Probably she'd not be proud of it today. Don't know. But I wanted to be her, you know? Wanted to be that fucking terrifying and vicious in a fight. Always did. So yeah. So it's- it's why.”

When he looked up at Capable she was staring at him with wide, shining eyes. 

“What?”

“Furiosa was your hero? Furiosa was your childhood hero?”

“Fuck off.”

“But she was?”

Slit looked resolutely away, but nodded after a moment. It had never been something that bothered him, not until she traitored the Immortan, but there was something about the glee on Capable's face that made him feel like maybe it should have. But Capable pulled into a hug, which only confused Slit more. It was a nice hug, all warm and tight, Capable's long hair in his face and small warm hands on his back. But he distrusted its intention.  
“I'm not mocking, Slit,” Capable said into his shoulder. “I just think it's wonderful. And I'm not going to say anything, promise.”

“Not even to the other Wi- the others?”

“Not even them.”

“Not even Nux?”

She drew back, looking confused.

“He doesn't know?”

Slit shrugged.

“Never told him. Probably he guessed.”

“Mhm,” Capable agreed. “He's surprisingly observant.”

Slit inclined his head in vague agreement. Capable turned around, so she was leaning against him, her back pressed into his chest, the back of her head resting on his shoulder. After a few moments of uncertainty, Slit placed an arm around her. She twined the fingers of her hand with his, and they looked out at the sun together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me, updating earlier than usual. Go me.  
> Also. I am starting to realise that I have no fucking clue where I got Slit's speech patterns from as it has no basis in the movie. Ooops.  
> Also also, writing Capable as rad as she is but only as Slit perceives her is pretty hard. Don't do that friends. Becoming easier as he gets to know her better, but in the beginning of this fic, he's all suspicious and things, not trusting and jealous. So I hope. I hope if my Capable has come across as less cool than she is, then that works in the context of being Slit's limited view of her.  
> (Also also also there was going to be smut in this chapter, but apparently that was the moment all family gathered in the room where I was writing and it would have been awkward. So. Innocent kissing instead.)  
> On a fifth and final note I am only realizing now that Josh Helman is really cute. Which is relevant. Somehow.
> 
> Also shit I forgot to mention, Slit's war paint based on his admiration of Furiosa is in no way my idea i took it from tumblr. I've forgotten who said it, but there was this cute comic too? I'll find it when I'm on some public wifi, not my phones limited data plan.


	18. ??? part 3

It was nearly twenty days before the Imperator let them out on patrol again. It was, in Slit's opinion, a worse punishment than having your stomach sliced up and stapled together again. And he should know. It might be even worse for Nux, though. He lived for driving. Although he was spending a lot of time trying to put their car back together. Or rather, find a suitable wreck and stick all the bits of their car on it. There wasn't much of the functional components left, but there was the bobbing bird skull and the pedals with their names carved inexpertly into the metal and other bits and pieces. 

Capable noticed how miserable Slit and Nux were about not getting to drive again. It was late evening, and they were all sprawled over each other on the bed that strictly speaking was not big enough to be occupied by three people. Capable was sat against the wall, reading an old book about something or other. Slit lay on his back next to her, staring up at the cracks in the ceiling. Nux's head rested in Capable's lap, but he was lying half over Slit to accomplish this. His sharp hipbones dug into Slit's stomach scars, just on the brink of painful. Still, Slit's hand rested on the back of Nux's thigh, keeping him there. 

Nux and Slit, usually flirty or teasing or aggressive or something, just something, were just laying there. It wasn't that they were tired, far from it. They had too much energy. An itch that could only be scratched by the wind in their face and the desert sand all around them. She, and others, had asked them, begged them, not to participate in the fights in the pit. To be a good example. To not make all the War Boys and pups revert to their violent ways. And so this. This feeling of being trapped. 

“You doing alright?” she asked, at last, putting down her book. 

They both looked at her, then sighed heavily in unison. Capable rolled her eyes.

“Is being in here with me that terrible?”

Slit opened his mouth to speak, then paused. That sounded like a trap. Emotional tripwire. He tilted his head to look up at her sceptically. She looked back at him, amused half smile. She traced his facial scars lightly with a finger tip, and his eyes fluttered close without consulting his brain about this decision. Her hands were so soft, and he was coming to realise soft could be a very nice thing. She stroked the rough, uneven texture of his mangled face and somehow it was the nicest thing he'd felt in ages. He leaned into the touch.

“Nah,” he told her. “Ye're pretty good too.”

Capable's fingers moved over his mouth and he pressed a kiss to them. She smiled and her fingers stroked his jaw and down his throat and this felt really fucking good. His heart started doing the weird buzzing fluttering thing again. He was having feelings all over the place, like a fucking pup. But he found he couldn't mind as much as he would like, because soft lips were pressed to his forehead. Nux made a happy noise and Slit could feel the vibration of it.

“'M happy you're getting along,” Nux told them, voice muffled by the fabric of Capable's shirt.

“Mhm,” Capable agreed. “All good now I know Slit's not just a sadistic killing machine.”

“Still mostly a sadistic killing machine,” Slit growled, but somehow the growling turned into purring and he sensed he might not be as convincingly bad-ass as he'd intended. 

Terrible. This was terrible, he was mediocre. Nux giggled, fucking giggled. Traitoring scum. Just like Slit's useless emotional fucking heart. Goddamn. But Nux and Capable were so shiny, so chrome, in different but equally amazing ways. He sighed, and was glad this room was far, far from the rest of the War Boys so they couldn't witness his failure as a terrifying and brutal warrior.

“A sweet, handsome sadistic killing machine,” Capable said, somehow both sincere and teasing.

Slit just looked at her, eyes narrow. Nux moved, knees and elbows all somehow managing to poke Slit's various scars and wounds. He wriggled around until he was lying on his stomach on top of Slit, arms crossed over Slit's chest. Nux looked very pleased with himself, and Slit's eyes were narrow, well, slits. He felt that they somehow were ganging up on him, but he wasn't sure what sort of nefarious plans they had.

“The loveliest,” Nux agreed, and though Slit had known him to use the word to describe natural disasters he felt like that might not be the comparison Nux was making.

Nux pressed a soft kiss to Slit's nose. Slit bared his teeth at him, all wounded pride and threats. Nux smiled sweetly, like he meant it, like he wasn't making fun of Slit. What a fucking asshole. But an asshole whose warm body was a solid weight over his, and whose bright eyes were staring a challenge into his. He pulled Nux's head down into a messy kiss, knocking their noses together hard enough to hurt. It was sweet, and hot and wonderful and the pain bothered neither of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short & mediocre, much like myself.
> 
> Today I had an hour long fight with an engine and remembered how fun driving a vehicle irresponsibly fast can be, even if it's on water and not the highways of Valhalla.   
> Also I don't know how much further this fic goes? Like I have zero plans, I just write what seems like it might happen and might be sweet or amusing or whatever. If I were to finish this fic I'd probably start on something else, probably something Snux (sux is a terrible shipname guys. Snux sounds all nice and cuddly. Snux and Snuxable. Those are the ship names I am calling it.) and probably pre fall of citadel. But do you want me to go on with this one? Asking again whether there is anything anyone would like to see happen, if so?


	19. Getting Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheedo is confused, Slit is kind of a dick, Nux is kind of a dick, but a cute one, and Capable is pretty goddamn badass.

“What, so, all three of you? How does that work?” Cheedo asked.

“Hush, that's rude,” Toast told her.

“I'm pretty sure it works fine,” The Dag said, all cheery smiles and knowing look.

Capable was blushing deeply, and Slit and Nux might have been too, under their white clay, but no one could have seen and they'd deny it later. Officially, Slit supposed, people hadn't known about them. But honestly, they'd shared a small room with one bed for ages. No one was actually surprised. Except Cheedo, who he suspected hadn't considered it a possibility. 

“It's, uh, it's good,” Capable said, staring at the floor like the uneven stone fascinated her deeply.

The Dag giggled. Cheedo looked genuinely interested. Toast looked like she would prefer to be out in the desert being attacked by buzzards. Slit was not quite sure why it was important to explain their relationship to the others, but apparently it was. He had no strong feelings either way. Nux looked deeply uncomfortable, but hid it pretty well. 

“But do all of you-” Cheedo began, before she was interrupted.

“Hey,” said Capable, then paused, as if she hadn't thought further than interrupting the question. 

“We got work,” Slit told them. “More 'mportant stuff to do.”

He motioned for Nux and Capable to follow him, and they left the others standing in puzzlement. Nux nodded his thanks to Slit when they rounded the corner.

“Why'd you do that?” Capable asked.

“Let 'em work it out for 'emselves,” Slit replied. “Come to us later if they need to know somethin'. To you, hopefully.”

Capable looked like she wanted to disagree, but remained silent. Eventually she nodded. 

“Guess you've got a point.”

They headed their separate ways, Nux and Slit towards the repair bay, Capable in the opposite direction. 

“Why d'you think she needs the others to know?” Nux asked after a while.

“Don't know. They're all close. No secrets kind of thing?”

“Yeah, maybe. Maybe they asked.”

“You mind?”

“Nah. Took 'em a while to trust me. Takin' 'em longer to trust you. Think maybe she wants 'em to know we're both good? Y'know, so they don't think we're bad to her or things?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. The Immortan was real bad to 'em. An' maybe they think her being with two men, so short after they were, well, the Immortan's wives, that we're bein' bad to her or things.”

“Guess I can see that.”

“Ya know how she talks 'bout it? Like it's the worst thing can happen to someone? I think it was.”

“Yeah. But she thinks tellin' 'em we're not shit's enough?”

Nux shrugged.

“Maybe? 'S a start.”

Slit nodded. That made sense. They would probably not fully understand what Capable and the others had gone through, and he was pretty sure he didn't want to understand. It might be enough to know how bad it affected them all. Nux had suggested at one point that it might get better with time, but Slit wasn't so sure. He thought it might be the kind of thing that never got less bad, so you buried it under other stuff. And if the other stuff was good, then it was an easier thing to bury. By that logic he ought to be nicer to them, probably. He sighed. Being a War Boy used to be less complicated. But also less nice, he had to admit that.

Nux got to work on their car when they arrived. It still didn't look like much. He had had less time to work on it than he wanted, what with all the changes being made. New duties and things. And his free time being taken up by Slit and Capable, and not so much staying in the repair bay and working till he couldn't see like he sometimes did before. Slit made sure of that. Nux claimed to miss that, but Slit was fairly sure that he was happier now, over all. He sat on the floor, watching Nux work.

“Don't you have things to do?” Nux asked after a while, head and shoulders still buried deep in machinery.

“Nah. Not more important than watchin' ya work.”

“Pretty sure some higher ups might not see it that way.”

“Don't know how to appreciate a good view,” Slit retorted, smirking.

Nux snorted with laughter.

“How the fuck did ya make lancer like that?”

Slit got up. Silent, sneaking till he was right behind Nux, snaking a hand to grab the other's dick through his pants.

“By bein' real fucking good at handling lances,” he hissed into Nux's ear.

Nux made a sound somewhere between a yelp and a moan, and Slit laughed. 

“Get off, some of us got actual shit to do,” Nux told him, a bit more aggressive than needed.

He seemed to realise this, and turned around, extracting himself from the car. He pulled held Slit's head, bending down to knock their foreheads together. Slit closed his eyes and told Nux he was an asshole. Nux planted a soft kiss to his mangled cheek, then shooed him away. Slit rolled his eyes and expressed his displeasure, but did as told. After all he'd been missing their car too. 

For once he spent the better part of the day doing actual work. Or actual training, either way. It wasn't as effective as it used to be before. The best War Boys were already in Valhalla, and he complained about this, possibly more than he should have. By the end all the others were pretty angry, and he guessed he could see why. He and Nux were all fancy now, locked up in the heights with the Wives and the Imperator. Which was fair. Had Slit been in their position he would have hated himself and Nux too, and probably more violently so. And so he didn't stick around after, like he'd used to. Didn't share the drugs that somehow seemed to make things make more sense. He kind of missed it. 

He walked upwards, towards the top of the Citadel, looking grim. A few war pups ran past him on the way, knocking into his legs, and when they realised he thought they didn't look as scared as they should have. Or they did, but in the wrong way. Like they weren't scared of him, but of someone higher up who might want vengeance should he be harmed or something. It was absolute bullshit, and he would have to do something about it. Figure some way to say that he was not anyone's fucking guard dog. He was scary in his own fucking right. And so was Nux. If they treated him different he wasn't sure Nux would notice. Or care. 

Nux had been a little less concerned with these things, ever since they were pups. And so Slit had been concerned for him. And Slit's concern had often taken the form of fists heading rapidly towards the faces of people who maybe thought Nux wasn't the chromest fucking War Boy of them all. And sometimes Nux had thanked him and sometimes he had gotten angry. Said that it wasn't Slit's concern, that he could take care of it himself. And then Nux had gone and fought in the pits, and proven that he was as tough as anyone. And Slit had worried, because even he did that sometimes.

It wasn't that he thought Nux needed protecting, it really wasn't. It was just that sometimes people would treat Nux bad and he would pretend he didn't care. Would think that beating the people up didn't matter that much. And he would be wrong, because they were kamakrazee War Boys and beating people up was how problems were solved. But if someone hurt Slit, and he couldn't retaliate on his own for whatever reason (usually the reason involved being hooked up to a blood bag and not able to move), then Nux could wreak vicious vengeance. 

As Slit rounded a corner, he heard voices. All aggressive classic War Boy voices. Bits and pieces of sentences and he had a bad feeling he knew what was going on.

“-yer soft ass would look grea-”

“Come down here all alo-”

“Not got any of yer guard dogs now hav-”

“Hey! HEY! You get the fuck away from me!”

A small mob of War Boys were standing in a half circle around Capable, who was back up against the wall. She was trying her best to look angry and in charge, but she was quite obviously scared. One of the War Boys reach out to touch her, and she slapped his hand away hard. The others laughed.

“Thought ya liked War Boys?”

“Got two of 'em in your bed already, ain't there room for a few more?”

“I can do anythin' those fuckers can, trust me, just-”

Capable punched the War Boy in the throat, and he gasped, coughed, and fell to the floor clutching his throat. The others closed in, angry now. Slit decided that maybe this was the time to intervene. He marched towards them, all anger and purpose, shoving the War Boys out of the way.

“Ya heard her, fuck off! Ain't ya got more 'mportant shit to do?”

He was standing half in front of Capable, between her and them. Out of their sight she touched a hand to the small of his back. The War Boys looked unsure of themselves, now. Slit pulled a long knife from a sheath strapped to his pants, giving them all his most menacing smile.

“Ain't as tough as she, but anyone wanna fight me?”

The War Boys looked at each other, wordlessly coming to the conclusion that this probably wasn't worth it. They walked away, muttering angrily. Slit sheathed the knife, turned around.

“Good punch.”

“Thanks.”

“Got any weapons on ya?”

“No.”

“Might wanna start. Know ya shouldn't have to,” he added at her look, “but 's the way it is for now. Till they learn.”

Capable nodded. She looked a bit shaky still, and Slit put an arm around her shoulder. She leaned into him, and sighed.

“I thought they were getting better.”

“They are. We are. We just learn slow, is all,” he told her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“You're doing good.”

He nodded his thanks, and they walked back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so. I'll continue this fic, at least a little while, but I'm not sure I'll post every day any more. I posted a one shot drabble about Capable (called Taken if you wanna read), and started a Snux fic (Together, if you wanna read) that can read as a prequel to this one, but is mostly just about Slit and Nux getting to know each other and becoming War Boys together and things.
> 
> Thanks to everyone for reading and commenting, and for some good suggestions I started incorporating in this chapter, and that I'll keep using in the next one, at least! Again, still super excited that people read & like this fic!
> 
> (This page is 60 fucking pages long what the fuck It's like three times longer than literally any other coherrent thing I've written in any context)


	20. Valhalla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slit has feelings, and everyone is generally pretty damn happy.

“Ya saved Capable? That's so chrome!”

Capable smiled at Nux's bright eyed enthusiasm.

“Nah,” Slit corrected him. “Saved herself. Only helped a bit.”

Which was true. Because Capable had downed that War Boy, and that had been pretty fucking chrome and music had started to play in Slit's head and he suspected that he might be in love with her. All proper, fluttery feelings, looking like an idiot and blushing type in love. That in itself was pretty embarrassing. Although he supposed, them being in an actual relationship, it was kind of expected. Still, it had caught him by surprise.

“I was pretty chrome too,” Capable agreed, smiling.

“Knocked one of 'em out,” Slit told Nux, proud, though it was nothing to do with him.

“Glory be, Capable, you're tougher than Slit,” Nux exclaimed, and Slit just nodded because clearly she was.

Nux got up, walked over to Capable, looked at her in absolute wonder and admiration. His blackened, grease stained fingers hovered inches from her waist, not quite daring to touch. Capable looked up at him, still amused, still pleased. She grabbed his wrists, put his hands on her waist, reached her own up to drag him down into a sweet kiss. 

Slit watched them like some kind of lovestruck idiot. Which he was, he supposed. One person he had loved, although he never phrased it like that before, almost all his life, and a beautiful and amazing person he was starting to fall in love with and somehow, miraculously, they liked both each other and also him. How the fuck did that happen? What did he do to deserve this? Not, he thought, a lot. 

Nux and Capable came over, sat down on either side of Slit. Nux pulled Slit's face to the side, knocked their foreheads together. Slit leaned into it, a soft, happy noise escaping him. Capable leaned on his shoulder, her warm breath on both their faces. Her hand was on Slit's thigh to help her balance, and that did things to Slit. 

“My shiny War Boys,” Capable murmured affectionately. 

Nux moved to kiss her, and despite being squeezed between them, Slit felt left out. He pouted, and when they pulled apart, Nux laughed and called him greedy, which Slit thought was unfair. It was Nux's idea, after all, being together all three of them. But when Nux kissed him, deeply, long fingers locked behind Slit's neck, and Capable planted soft kisses down along his scarred face, Slit lost the will to complain. 

Nux moved around to straddle Slit. Over his lap like that, Nux was so fucking tall, it was infuriating. Slit let himself fall down to the bed, dragging Nux with him. Being tall didn't count when you were lying down. Slit's hands roamed over Nux's slender frame, leaving hand prints in the clay. Nux grinned down at him, and the stupid fucker was beautiful. 

Nux had an innocent look, out of the war clay. Young and somehow fragile. But the war clay was his proper face, Slit felt. The face he saw every day and night. Almost all War Boys looked like strangers unpainted. Slit thought Capable preferred Nux unpainted, was used to the clay skulls meaning enemy. But she seemed to fairly enthusiastic about his face either way, a feeling Slit both understood and shared.

“Ya just gonna lie there eyein' me all day?” Nux asked.

“I might,” Slit replied with a grin, holding Nux's arms in place on either side of him.

Capable seemed to disagree, though, because she scooted closer to him, pulling his face to the side until his dry and clay caked lips met her soft and sweet ones. Slit had been told he kissed greedily, and that might be true. He wanted to taste Capable, all sweet and warm. He nibbled at her lower lip softly. With Nux he would often draw blood, but Capable didn't like that, and that was fine. Soft and sweet could be pretty chrome, too.

Nux was yanking at his arms, now, wriggling to get lose. Slit looked up at him, all narrow eyes and tight lips, strong arms keeping him in place. Nux whined, actually whined. He looked pathetic. And apparently that was his thing, because Slit laughed, and yielded, and Nux's long fingers were gripping the sides of his face and a tongue was in his mouth and Nux ground his hips down. 

Capable pushed Nux up, then, kissing him, and he responded enthusiastically, one hand disappearing under her shirt and the other into her hair, holding her close. Slit's heart was doing one of those fast fluttering things again. It felt good this time. Slit had spent his entire life chasing Valhalla, but lying there all tangled up in his two lovers, he was pretty damn sure he'd found it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the reasons I'm wary of writing smut for this pairing is that I've sadly never had a threesome and I don't really know how that works? When I get back to civilization I'm going to get really drunk an attempt to do some serious research on this.
> 
> Also that last line is incredibly cheesy and I apologise deeply.

**Author's Note:**

> Blame all typos and bad sentence structure on English being not my first language pls.


End file.
